Who Your Friends Are
by Jeanny
Summary: Spike and Lydia are drawn back together by a mutual enemy, The Dark Council, as allies and enemies line up for the ultimate battle. *Sequel to The Possibility of Friendship*
1. Prologue

Title: Who Your Friends Are

Author: Jeanny

Spoilers: Through Season 5

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please! jeannygrrl@hotmail.com

Distribution: Go ahead, I don't mind, just credit me and tell me where it's going.

Summary: After Buffy's death, events lead inexorably to a showdown between the Dark Council and the Scooby Gang and their new leader, Spike. *Sequel to The Possibility of Friendship*

Disclaimer: Joss & Co. owns all these people, demons, creatures, tax collectors, etc. I'm only playing with them as I often do.

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PROLOGUE

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SOMEWHERE IN AMERICA...

Aldric Stokes-Martin had lost track of the number of attempts he had made to regain consciousness. His captors were using a combination of potent drugs and magicks to keep him perpetually unconscious, yet unable to slip into any kind of trance. Additionally he had felt that there was a tug on his spirit, a draining of his energies that he had been powerless to prevent. With a great effort he managed to break the surface of consciousness, not enough to move or speak or have a sense of his surroundings, but enough to hear the conversation that was taking place nearby.

"Is everything at the ready?"

Aldric recognized his father's voice immediately, of course.

"It is. The time is almost at hand. The Slayer will soon fall."

That voice was unknown, but it was unimportant. It was his father with whom he was most concerned. That and the fate of his sister Lydia. He hoped they would speak of her.

"And the Dark Slayer will rise. Has she been collected?"

Aldric would have moaned if he could. Sharonda Martin. A young girl already so corrupted that she would turn against her sacred duty and use her gifts for the side of evil if called. She had to be stopped, but he had no idea how.

"It is happening as we speak."

"Good. Make certain that the boy has been secured. Nothing can go wrong now."

Aldric this time did manage to moan as he felt the hands push up his sleeve and the prick of the needle on his skin. Then he was forced to surrender himself into the darkness once more. As always, he headed for the only place he knew. The Dreaming Planes could be a strange and frightening place, but he knew they were his only chance of warning anyone of what was to come. If he could get into the dreams of his sister, Rupert Giles or the Slayer, he might be able to stop this. It was a faint hope, but it was all he had.

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MARTIN RESIDENCE, SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA

Clive Martin was a simple man. He had always tried to accept what life brought him with stoic tolerance. Sure, when he lost his beloved wife and son in a fire, he had almost fallen apart. Claire and Jamie. It had been five years but he could still see their faces as clear as day when he closed his eyes. He could still hear their screams.

The only blessing God had given him that night was his ten-year-old daughter managing to escape the inferno. She had given him a reason to hang on and rebuild his life, and so he had. She was all he had left, and he had pinned all of his hopes and dreams upon her. He had even convinced himself that he could see her mother in the girl's eyes, burying the truth where he couldn't find it. Yes, Clive Martin was a simple man, but his daughter Sharonda was anything but.

Sharonda stood staring into the mirror, her expression unreadable. She hated the way she looked. Too short, too stocky, with stringy dull brown hair and a wide forehead and eyes that were too small and too far apart and were the color of dishwater. No one would ever wax poetic about Sharonda's eyes. The boys at school rarely looked at them anyway; they were too busy noticing other prominent features. Full pouty lips and a voluptuous figure had earned her a reputation in the girls' locker room that wasn't deserved. The truth was, the boys may have looked at her in lust, but they never touched. There was something about Sharonda that sent shivers up their spines.

Sharonda knew what they thought. What they whispered about her. There was a time when she'd cared, but that was before Alan Travers had come to tell her of her destiny. She smiled secretively into the mirror. She was to be the Slayer. They would all pay for their hurtful gossip; the currency she desired was pain. She hadn't felt so excited since the night she set the fire. She still lulled herself to sleep recalling her mother's screams. Soon she'd be able to make them all scream.

She was perturbed that Alan had not contacted her since he had returned to England, but he had said that he might not be able to contact her safely. She knew he would come for her soon, and the thought sent a thrill of anticipation through her. He had taught her much, trained her well. And his hands were so...talented...Sharonda stirred from her reverie by the sound of knocking on the door. She could hear her father moving to open it and hurried to the hallway, her heart pounding.

*He's here, he's come for me!* her heart sang. She saw her father's frown before she saw the man at the door. He was a total stranger, but the tweed suit was a giveaway.

"Mr. M-martin?" The man stammered.

"That's right? Do I know you?" Clive responded warily. Sharonda could tell he was aware the strange man was a Watcher. Clive had been tremendously distressed by the pronouncement that his precious daughter might be a Slayer. While he had grudgingly permitted her training, he had made it plain that he was not certain he would allow his daughter to be spirited away, destiny or no destiny. Alan had warned Sharonda that if her father didn't come around, he would have to be eliminated. She didn't really have a problem with that.

"My name is Andrew Tharpe, sir. I'm afraid I have some difficult news for you, sir, concerning your daughter. And her Watcher, Alan Travers." Sharonda froze.

*We've been discovered, and they've done something with Alan. And they'll tell Dad what we've...this is a nightmare!*

"Go on then. Speak your piece," Clive responded gruffly. The man shifted uneasily on the porch, knowing better than to request an invitation. He cleared his throat again, looking more uncomfortable by the second.

"It is a rather unpleasant matter, I'm afraid. Mr. Travers-"

"It's a lie, Dad. Don't listen to him!" Sharonda blurted out.

"Sharonda, what the devil-" 

"Ms. Martin, please listen to me-" Mr. Tharpe's tone was pleading, but Sharonda ignored him in her panic.

"Mr. Travers is my Watcher, he can explain everything-" Sharonda said in a rush, focusing on her father's eyes, trying to get him on her side.

"Ms. Martin, Alan Travers is dead."

"We never...dead?" It had taken a moment for Tharpe's words to register.

"Good Lord, what happened?" Clive asked, putting an arm around Sharonda's shoulders. Her body was as stiff as a corpse.

"There was an accident in London. A fire. I'm afraid he didn't survive. It's been a terrible shock to us all." Sharonda impatiently shrugged off her father's comforting arm, advancing on Tharpe menacingly.

"No, no, that's not right. No, take that back! You're lying!" Tharpe met her charge with nothing but cool sadness.

"I wish I were, Ms. Martin. I truly do. I know that this must be terribly difficult for you to hear. But that is not all." Tharpe shifted his gaze from Sharonda to Clive. "The Council wishes to inform you that it is no longer their belief that your daughter will be called as the Slayer when one of the current Slayers is...is no longer..." Tharpe faltered, fearing he would come off as seeming callous to a man whose daughter could potentially face the same fate, however unlikely that possibility now seemed.

"I understand, and I can't say I'm sorry to hear that," Clive responded, relaxing for the first time in the conversation. Sharonda merely stood still as a statue, her eyes focused on some spot behind Tharpe's shoulder. He looked at her sympathetically.

*Poor thing's in shock, and who could blame her, really,* thought the Watcher. *Clearly she'd already bonded with Travers. Always a difficult adjustment when a Slayer outlives her Watcher, even when she hasn't been called as yet. Which reminds me, better be clear about that to the old man.*

"It is not, however, inconceivable that it might happen, and for that reason I have been assigned as Sharonda's new Watcher. I do hope that will be acceptable." Tharpe's tone of voice made it clear that he would be staying whether the Martins found his presence acceptable or not.

"Might be acceptable. Can't be sure as yet. Put your hand on that, and I'll decide if you get an invite, Mr. Tharpe." Clive gestured towards the side of the door. The Watcher smiled in approval.

"Quite right, Mr. Martin. Such precautions are quite prudent." The Watcher placed his hand against the crucifix that had been mounted there, holding his hand against it for several seconds. Clive grunted and stepped aside, allowing the man to enter. Sharonda still hadn't moved, her eyes distant. She moved past the Watcher into the doorframe, staring into the night.

"Sharonda, are you all right?" her father asked, and she nodded absently.

"Mr. Travers is dead. Such horrible news...I need to be alone for a bit." She moved to step outside and felt a hand on her arm. She looked into the understanding eyes of Tharpe.

"I realize you've suffered a loss, Ms. Martin. But outside...I don't think that's a good idea." Sharonda smiled bitterly, gently prying the new Watcher's fingers from her arm. She had to keep reminding herself even if she'd had the strength, it would do her no good to break those fingers. Despite the satisfaction causing such pain might bring.

"May not be the Slayer, but I can hold my own." She turned to her father, knowing he would be more likely to give in to her. "I'll just be on the porch." The two men regarded her silently, and Sharonda forced tears to her eyes. She was upset about Alan so it wasn't hard to show emotion; to not reveal the depth of her anger to them at the same time was challenging.

"Stay close," her father finally replied, and Sharonda stepped outside, shutting the door behind her.

She heard her father usher Tharpe into the kitchen, and sighed as their voices retreated. Now she could finally get on to business. She moved to the edge of the porch.

"I know you're out here. Show yourselves," she called softly. Slowly a man and a woman emerged from the shadows and approached. Pale with dark hair, they would have been identical if not for their different genders. Their arrogant postures marked them as members of the Watcher's Council, but there was something in their attitudes that Tharpe had lacked: a healthy respect. Clearly they were afraid of her; Sharonda liked that. She liked that very much. Her spirits lifted as they stood before her.

"We were sent for you, Sharonda Martin," the woman began. "I am Hortensia Blackman. This is my brother Norris."

"We would deliver you to the Council," her brother finished reverently.

"Why should I go with you?" she asked carefully. The two answered without hesitation.

"To fulfill your destiny." Hortensia seemed almost ready to drop to her knees.

"You are the Dark Slayer," Norris intoned somberly. Sharonda nodded in satisfaction, and went immediately to the matter foremost on her mind.

"Alan Travers? Did he die in a fire?" At this her two new visitors exchanged glances. The man answered as his sister moved away to make certain they were not bothered.

"He is dead, but he was treacherously murdered." He shivered at the look the girl gave him.

"You know who's responsible?" It wasn't really a question, but Norris nodded in response. Hortensia returned to his side.

"Come with us now, there isn't much time," she said urgently. Sharonda favored the front door with one last look, then stepped off of the porch. Once they were safely away from the house, Hortensia drew a sigil into the air. A fireball appeared in her hand and flew towards the house, igniting the front door as if she had thrown a Molotov cocktail. Sharonda watched critically for a moment as her home burned, then shrugged. The three vanished into the night.

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To be continued...feedback is appreciated.


	2. Chapter 1 - Spike Learns Something New

Disclaimer: Joss & Co. owns all these people, demons, creatures, tax collectors, etc. I'm only playing with them.

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SOMEWHERE IN AMERICA

The time had come, as it had been foreseen. The six highest representatives of the Concillium Nocens stood in a carefully arranged formation and watched as the scrying pool revealed the Slayer's last battle to Luther, Geoffrey's most trusted mage. The thin-featured man was known for his calm impassive manner, even when he performed the most heinous and vile acts. Other magick users were chanting, drawing as much dark energy as would be needed for the ritual. There were murmurs of dismay as the Luther described Glory's apparent defeat. Geoffrey silenced them all with a glare and a wave of his hand.

"Worry not. The hellgoddess is of no consequence. The Slayer will fall."

"And the Dark Slayer will rise," chanted the gathering, the response to an unholy prayer. Geoffrey nodded approvingly.

"Bring the girl forth." Hortensia and Norris had not left the girl's side since securing her in Australia. They entered the chamber and brought Sharonda forth. Her head was lowered in a parody of prayer as she knelt before them, clothed in a blood red shift which fell loosely around her, pooling around her in a circular shape on the floor. Geoffrey allowed himself the luxury of a cold smile. The ceremonial garment had no discernible effect on what was to come, but he knew of the value of good theatrics in a ritual.

Geoffrey allowed his attention to wander to where his son was chained. Aldric sagged against his chains, barely conscious. Having Aldric present at this moment was something of a risk, but he had been bound with dark magicks and his energies drained, nearly to the point of death. Geoffrey had been assured by his own mages Aldric could do nothing at this point to stop him; his own desire to have the boy witness his triumph overrode the small nagging doubt. The two men locked gazes for a moment, Aldric dropping his eyes first. Geoffrey savored that small victory as an aperitif for the larger one to come.

"The sister bleeds," Luther announced, and excitement began to build within the assembly as the chanting of the mages grew even louder. "The rifts are growing between the dimensions...the Slayer has stopped the sister from sacrificing herself...."

Energy seemed to build around Sharonda, and Geoffrey raised his fist, sensing the success that was at hand. The mages were now shouting their chants, and a strong wind blew through the chamber, nearly knocking Geoffrey to his knees. Unnoticed by all, Aldric's eyes focused and his lips began to move. It was not a spell, merely a prayer, but it was all he could manage under the circumstances.

"She's jumping...the Slayer falls..." Luther's voice, unchanged in volume or pitch, somehow still carried over the din. All felt the crackle of magickal energy surrounding them.

"And the Dark Slayer rises," screamed the gathered Watchers. Sharonda lifted her arms, feeling something pass through her.

"The Slayer is dead." The noise abated all at once, leaving the chamber quiet except for the whispers of those present. Geoffrey helped Sharonda to her feet, and Luther left his place at the scrying pool and joined them. He ignored Geoffrey, staring at Sharonda thoughtfully.

"Well?" Geoffrey asked impatiently. Luther shook his head.

"She is not a Slayer." There was a collective gasp from the assembly that was quite comical, unless you were Geoffrey. He glared at them and silence was immediately restored.

"That's impossible. She must be the Slayer. The ritual..." Geoffrey growled. Luther's expression did not change as he turned to face his angry leader.

"The ritual worked as it should. The Slayer essence was here."

"I felt it...I felt it pass through me," Sharonda whispered miserably.

"How could this have failed?" Geoffrey seethed.

"I know not," Luther answered evenly. Anticipating the next question he moved back to his position at the scrying pool.

"Then another has been called. We must locate her! Luther, who has been called?" Geoffrey asked, thinking fast. Their plan could still work if they could get to the Slayer in time. Luther looked up, his implacable features showing surprise for the first time.

"No one."

"What?"

"No new Slayer has been called."

"Perhaps it is because Buffy Summers had already died once before." One of Luther's assistants, emboldened by his master's conversational tone, saw fit to speak aloud. Geoffrey favored him with a thin smile.

"Perhaps you're right." Geoffrey looked at Luther, who raised his hand. The other mages screamed as one as they were instantly reduced to ashes. They had, after all, failed. And they were easy enough to replace, unlike Luther himself. Geoffrey would have liked to make an example of the man, but he was still needed the mage. And he'd never admit it, not even to himself, but he feared Luther. The fear was bothersome, but a small price to pay for such a talented wizard. He turned to Sharonda. The girl looked disappointed, but the sudden deaths of the others seemed to have had a cheering effect. He favored her with a smile. She would be a fine Slayer. He moved confidently to Luther's side. Their efforts had not been deterred, merely delayed. He must impress that upon the others.

"The Slayer Faith is confined in California, is she not?" He spoke more loudly than necessary, as he wanted the Council to be impressed with the answers.

"She is," Luther responded. Geoffrey turned to the others.

"The Slayer will fall."

"And the Dark Slayer will rise."

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SOMEWHERE IN SUNNYDALE, THREE MONTHS LATER

After three months his feet knew their own way there. They knew this path better than they knew the streets of London he'd grown up in. Better than he knew his own way home, even better than they had known their way to the tree beneath her window during that time he'd been so obsessed and crazy. Standing there for hours waiting for a glimpse of her light, burning his heart brighter than the sun. Maybe not so crazy after all. He'd give anything...but that light had died. So now his feet walked this path, towards the willow trees, towards the cold gray slab that marked her place. She wouldn't be rising from this earth, but he still needed to see her. To talk to her. Never to say goodbye to her.

He stood staring at her name, smoking a cigarette. Fresh flowers. One of the Scoobies had been there, probably Giles or Anya. The flowers were too artfully arranged for it to have been Willow or Xander, and Dawn almost never came. She said it was too hard. Spike couldn't understand that, really. What could be hard about seeing Buffy? He gave her a little half-smile and cleared his throat.

"Hello again, Slayer. Hope I'm not disturbing your rest," he began, his voice containing a hint of his old sarcastic edge, "but I thought you might like an update on what's happening with your beloved Scoobies. And the nibblet. She's not doing so hot, pet. Grades've been slippin' still. I told her you wouldn't be havin' that, and she promised she'd buckle down. Don't think that's gonna do it though. Thought you might want to be havin' a talk with her." He paused, cocking his head for her reply, then glowering at the grave. He raised his voice angrily, gesturing with the lit cigarette. "Well, if you can't make her, than nobody can, can they? You're her bleedin family, I'm just...whatever it is I am." The last came out as a miserable whisper. The cigarette dropped from his trembling fingers. He fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands.

"I don't know what I am anymore, pet. Why I'm still here. I don't have to stay, you know...even with the chip, I can get by. The great poof's been doing it for years, after all. And I'm twice the vampire that he ever-"

"Spike." He was on his feet in an instant, distressed that his moment of weakness had been witnessed by...

"Angel." The two vampires considered each other for a long moment. Angel was shocked at the changes in Spike. The blonde vampire was withdrawn, almost tentative, where he had once been cocky and sardonic. Of course, focusing all of his attention on observing Spike's manner meant that he could avoid looking at Buffy's grave for a little while longer. He cleared his throat awkwardly, uncertain how to begin.

"How are things?" Spike laughed hollowly.

"Never better. Look around you, mate. I've bagged number three. Wish I were getting the credit, I'd be a bleedin' legend. Well, more of a legend." Despite himself, Angel had followed the wave of Spike's hand towards the headstone. He drew a shaky breath and carried on. There would be time for reflection here once he had done what he came here to do.

"Willow told me what happened. You're not-"

"Responsible?" Spike asked bitterly. "I think we both know better than that."

"Because of what happened in L.A.? You still think you were supposed to save Joyce?" Spike didn't respond immediately. When he did it was in a quiet mournful voice, one that Angel had never heard coming from Spike before.

"I guess we'll never know, will we?"

"You want to know what I know? I'll tell you what I know. Buffy...Buffy's gone. And we're still here. And you need to be with your friends right now-"

"My friends. You mean Buffy's friends. They tolerated me because Buffy didn't give them a choice," Spike said angrily. "Now she's gone and they don't want me around anymore. You don't know what it's like!"

"What are you talking about?" Angel yelled back. "Of course, I know what it's like! You think they ever accepted me? You think if it wasn't for Buffy I'd have been allowed anywhere near, soul or no soul?" Spike looked down, and Angel silently berated himself. This was not helping the situation. "We're vampires, we'll always be outsiders, Spike. But with Buffy gone, the situation here in Sunnydale is getting out of hand. You've got to help."

"I help," Spike answered defensively.

"You've got to lead. You're the only one strong enough."

"Giles is the leader. The others won't be looking to me any way other than nasty. You know that." Angel shook his head; he would not be put off.

"Giles has the knowledge, but you have the strength. You can lead them into the battles to come." Spike shrugged in response. At that moment he looked like a lost child to Angel; it was not lost to the older vampire that indeed he was just that.

"Willow's the one leading in the fights. She's zapping vamps with her witchy zapping dusting powers. Hardly ever get to enjoy the violence anymore."

"Who do you think asked me to talk to you?" Spike's eyes widened in shock. "They all need you. Not all of them are willing to admit it, Spike, but they do care about you. Dawn most of all."

"But they didn't ask you to have me lead them, did they?" Angel's mouth opened and closed as he struggled with the answer. Spike took out another cigarette and lit it, looking away from Angel and back to Buffy's grave. Angel had no idea what he was thinking.

"Fine. Okay. It was my idea. But I don't think you'll find resistance. Not a lot, anyway. Willow sounded really...tired. She doesn't want to lead, Spike. She's doing it because there isn't anyone else."

"That's what you think," Spike said wearily. Angel thought he heard the hint of a question, but he couldn't be sure. Still he decided to press the advantage.

"Yes, that's exactly what I think. But it's your call. I'm going back to L.A. tomorrow night. If you don't want to stay in Sunnydale, come back with me." Spike raised his eyebrows, and Angel smiled faintly. "Not to stay, just offering a ride. Once we get there, go anywhere you want to go." Spike took a long drag off of his cigarette, then dropped it, stomping it out. He pivoted on his heels and turned away from Angel and the gravesite, heading back the way he'd come. "Spike!" Angel called after him, and he shouted his reply back without turning around.

"Got to think about it." Angel watched him until he was gone, then turned back to the gravesite.

"I've done all I can, Buffy. I wish it was more." There was a warm breeze rustling the branches of the nearby willow trees, and Angel decided to see it as his love's reply.

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DESTINY, MAINE

Lydia was being watched, but she forced herself to remain relaxed. She felt that her unseen observers were human, and were not necessarily of bad intent. She was a stranger in a town obviously unaccustomed to visitors; she had seen only one hotel and one B&B. Peculiar, as the Maine foliage was in full color and particularly breathtaking in this area. But the moment she had driven into the town she had gotten an uneasy feeling. There was something unpleasant about being here that made her feel mildly nauseous. Despite the picturesque location, Destiny looked totally deserted and felt distinctly unwelcoming. If she had been a regular tourist, she would certainly have simply driven on to one of its more pleasant neighboring towns. But Lydia was anything but a regular tourist.

She took out the postcard yet again, and looked at it for the fiftieth time that morning. It was apparent to her even before she left London that she might need some help to find her brother Aldric, and going to the Watchers' Council was definitely out. Unlike her brother, she had few contacts outside the Council, and the ones that she did have were friends of her father's, thus rendering them unusable. She knew of only one person in the States that might be able to help her, and had risked capture to return to her flat in London and secure the last postcard she had gotten. It was five years old and had no return address, but it had been postmarked Destiny, Maine. When the trail she was following had grown cold and no amount of spells gave her any further leads, she came here to seek out her last hope. Tricia Lorenzo.

Trish. Her best friend since childhood. They had had much in common. Both were daughters in Council families of good standing, lost in the shadows of talented older brothers. They were completely inseparable until they had turned fifteen and had their first encounter with Koy Lorenzo. Although the Watchers' Council was by and large an aristocratic bunch, they did seek out students from around the globe who had talents that would make them excellent Watchers. Koy Lorenzo was a brash American, an orphaned New Yorker with a chip on his shoulder. Gifted but rebellious, it was clear from the get-go that he would never play by the Council rules. In fact, Lydia had often wondered what had possessed the Council to bring such a free-thinker into their environment in the first place. At the end of his second year, Koy suddenly dropped out, planning to return to America. By then he and Trish had fallen hopelessly in love. Lydia had had mixed feelings about their relationship. Wanting Trish to be happy, she had helped facilitate their secret meetings, covering for her friend's whereabouts on numerous occasions. But she couldn't help feeling jealous of Koy. It seemed to young Lydia that he had taken her friend away just when she needed her most. Trish was no longer there to help her sort out her feelings about Alan Travers, increasing the ease with which he'd manipulated her. When Koy left surreptitiously for the States, Trish went with him. Lydia had rarely heard from her friend since. Only the occasional postcard to say they were fine and happy. At first they came from major cities: New York, Chicago, Atlanta, San Francisco. Then there were fewer messages, from odder places, finally this place, the oddest of all. Despite the brevity of the messages, Trish had never expressed any regrets. Lydia hoped that the bond of friendship forged so many years ago would be strong enough now.

Steeling her nerves she wandered into the hotel, the only place in town that looked even remotely welcoming. A miniscule sign had read VACANCY, so she supposed they would at least have to speak to her. The lobby was as deserted as she had expected it would be, but for all its austerity it was clean, a clear sign of life. She rang the bell and waited, a pleasant smile finding its way to her face. She heard the sounds of shuffling feet, and eventually an elderly man emerged from the back. He froze as he entered the room. Lydia was bewildered; this man was clearly terrified of her.

"I know who you are," the stranger said. "Leave this place now, before it's too late!"

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Feedback, please!


	3. Chapter 2 - Spike Arrives Late

Disclaimer: Joss & Co. owns all these people, demons, creatures, tax collectors, etc. I'm only playing with them.

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DESTINY, MAINE

"There's been some mistake," Lydia said, speaking in a soothing tone. "I mean you no harm. I'm just looking for an old friend."

"Don't much care why you're here. You need to go! Before it's too late."

"Not before I get answers," Lydia's tone was firm, but there was also a note of subtle menace that hadn't been there before. Her eyes briefly flashed with anger. The old man backed away, more terrified. Lydia closed her eyes and brought herself under control. "Look, I know that my friend...may not want to be found, although I have no idea why. But I need to find her. Please, I need..."

"It's okay, Carl," a voice from the room behind said. "I'll handle this." The man stepped from the shadows, and Lydia stiffened reflexively. It had been many years and his appearance had changed, but Koy Lorenzo still had a magnetic presence. The hard, speculative gaze he was giving her made her feel as if he was somehow absorbing all her secrets, and it was hard not to look away.

"Hello, Koy. It's good to see you," she said evenly when the silence had stretched to a length that was unbearable.

"Lydia. Wish I could say the same." Koy said regretfully, and now Lydia could see how troubled the man was by her presence.

"I don't understand. Is Tricia alright?"

"She's good. She's-"

"Standing right behind you." Lydia found herself enveloped in her friend's hug before she'd even finished turning around. Tricia squealed delightedly like the teenager she had been when last they'd see each other. "Dear Lord, it is you! I heard your voice and I couldn't believe it! I'm so happy you're here!"

"You are? I was thinking I wasn't welcome."

"No, no, it isn't that. It's just...we're not exactly the safest people to be 'round right now."

"Something we have in common, I'm afraid," Lydia admitted ruefully.

"Lydia. You are in trouble, aren't you? I thought as much."

"We should get inside. We're too vulnerable here," Koy said tersely, adding to Tricia in admonishment, "And you shouldn't have been on the street." The couple stared at each other for a few long moments, and Lydia had the definite impression that there was more than nonverbal communication passing between them. Tricia finally gave Koy an angry look and turned to Lydia with a grimace.

"I apologize for my husband. He worries so. Not that we haven't had reason, but..."

"Tricia..." Koy began warningly. She rolled her eyes at him and Lydia almost grinned; the Tricia from her childhood was infamous for that expression.

"Yes. Fine." The tone she used for her husband was full of annoyed affection. Tricia smiled warmly at Lydia; the former Watcher could see in her friend the ingrained cautiousness of someone who has been living in hiding for years. "My husband may be rude, but he's also right. This isn't the safest place for a reunion."

"Let's be off then," Lydia agreed. Tricia led her not out onto the street, but to the room behind the reception desk of the small hotel. Koy stayed behind with Carl for one moment. The older man looked troubled.

"Does this mean it's over, boss?"

"No. It means we need to be on guard. I'll brief Tampa and Bert. We need to be prepared for anything." Koy's eyes turned completely red, and Carl shivered. "Nothing will happen to my family, Carl. I'll kill Lydia myself if that's what it takes to stop it."

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SUNNYDALE, CA

"Hullo," Spike called with what passed for politeness, for him anyway. The Magic Box seemed to be deserted, but Willow had called to say something major was brewing, so he was dutifully here. Since his conversation with Angel he had been doing a lot of thinking. A lot of brooding, which was enough like his grandsire to piss him royally off. It was time for action, and he had decided that tonight was as good as any except...no one was here. Maybe they had left without him, except...something wasn't right. Willow was babbling and flighty, but she was unfailingly reliable. Things were askew...there had been a fight here, Spike was certain of it.

Cautiously he moved into the training room and stopped, sensing two heartbeats and faint traces of blood. He followed his senses to the weapons case, lying open and empty. Beneath it he saw the two witches, unconscious. He ran over there, noting absently how Willow was lying almost on top of her girlfriend as if trying to shield her from something. Both heartbeats were steady, and he was relieved to see that the blonde was already stirring.

"W-Willow?" Tara called weakly. She saw Spike's shadow on the wall and instinctively cringed, then relaxed. "Spike?" The vampire nodded, gently moving Willow slightly to allow Tara to roll free from her embrace. The redheaded witch showed no sign of stirring. She was essentially lying face down, her hair covering her face. What he could see of it was covered in nasty bruises. Her right cheek was swollen and a small trickle of blood was coming from the corner of her mouth. Spike took a moment to bring his bloodlust under control, before looking at the other witch. Tara was better off, although Spike could tell from the way she was cradling her right arm to her chest that her wrist was probably broken.

"Tara, luv, what happened?" Spike asked, gently but firmly. The girl sat up with his assistance, wincing in pain.

"Jan'esha demons...ambushed us...where are the others?"

"Who else was here?" Spike asked, a knot of fear making its way through his stomach. Tara, still dazed, didn't answer the question.

"Did they get out? We were trying to buy time. To stop the sacrifice," Tara said, her eyes focusing on her injured girlfriend for the first time. "Willow! Oh goddess, Willow!"

"Stop what sacrifice? Tara, who was here?" Spike asked through clenched teeth. Tara frowned, misunderstanding the question.

"I told you, the Jan'esha. Members of the Sect of Oktep. It's the Eve of Oktep," Tara said, relieved to see Willow stir. The redhead moved weakly, rolling further onto her stomach and spitting out blood and some small white things. Spike knew they were a couple of her teeth.

"Arrrhah," Willow moaned weakly, coughing a little.

"I'm here. Don't move, sweetie. You'll be okay. I'm calling an ambulance," Tara said, touching Willow gently and reassuringly on the shoulder with her good left hand before using the wall to help herself up. Willow reached out her hand blindly. Spike took hold of it, filled with the cold murderous rage that came by him naturally as a vampire. These were his people, his to protect. His to kill, of course, if it were possible. But not for anyone else to touch, especially not like this. One in particular above all the rest was the focus of his anxiety.

"Willow, Tara, Was. Dawn. Here?" Spike asked, panic making his voice rise. Tara grimaced, nodding as she lay the phone on the counter to awkwardly dial with her left hand. She picked up the phone and spoke in hushed worried tones. Willow continued to cough up blood for moment, then struggled to sit up. Spike helped her into a quasi-sitting position, slumped against the wall. She moaned with pain, but the fog in her eyes was clearing. Her anxiety mirrored his own. Tara hung up and rejoined them.

"The ambulance is coming. Dawn was here. She and Giles had just come...Xander and Anya were here too. They're all missing."

"Arraaeyah," Willow groaned. "Awep." To Spike's amazement, Tara seemed to understand what Willow was trying to say.

"I know. We don't have much time, but you're hurt and weak. You don't have the strength to help stop the ritual."

"What ritual? Where would they have taken them?" Spike asked, all business. Willow closed her eyes, and both Tara and Spike heard her speaking in their heads. This had become a common method of communication for her over the past few months, but both frowned at how different she sounded in their heads. Her voice was softer, weaker. There was a strange buzzing echo around it that occassionally drowned out the words.

__

*Spike, you have to stop the ritual...if the demons have the others, they'll sacrifice one of them to bring Oktep into our dimension, and use the others to sustain him through the transition.*

"Who or what the bloody hell is Oktep?"

__

*Demon god. Major badness. Think Glory without the fashion sense or the sometimes being Ben. And Giles said about three times the size.*

"Charming," Spike said. "How do I stop this bloke from killing Dawn?"

"Once Oktep is brought to this dimension, there's no way we could stop him, not even if Buf..." Tara stopped herself, but all three cringed. That wound stung as if fresh, no matter how much time passed. She continued, "Giles discovered a spell that can bind their magicks, render them useless, provided we can stop them from making the sacrifice before-"

"Grand. Tell me what I need to do, and I'll cast it."

*It takes two people, Spike. One has to be attuned to natural magicks.*

"You and me," Tara said firmly, and Spike nodded. The blonde witch was still shaky and hurt, but there were no other options. "Giles had put the spell ingredients in a bag...I don't think they would have found it. I'll go get it. You'll have to trace the sigils because...never mind, I'll explain on the way."

__

*I'm stronger...* Willow protested in their minds, the words so faint they could barely hear them. Spike brushed her hair from her face gently. The rhythm of her heart was still steady, but it was slowing and weakening. Spike sensed her condition was deteriorating fast.

"You're not well, Red," he said brusquely. "The ambulance will be here soon, luv. We'll come find you in hospital once we've got the others in hand."

__

*Help them. Take care of them..love you Tara...* Willow's voice faded out. The strange buzzing sound lingered for another moment, then Willow slumped further down the wall and it stopped. Tara was stricken as she saw her girlfriend lose consciousness. Spike knew that she was loathe to leave Willow's side, and was prepared to be severe with her. Before he could say anything, Tara leaned over, kissed Willow's forehead gently and stood again. She handed the bag to Spike, who took her arm with the other hand.

"Let's go," Tara said, her voice harsh with unshed tears. They heard the approaching sirens as they ducked out the back. Spike was impressed with how fast the witch moved, especially knowing how desperately she wanted to stay with her lover. He knew the kind of strength it took. He'd called upon that strength every day since Buffy's death. Keep moving, keep fighting, because you love a girl and it's what she would have wanted. He was surprised at how fervently he was hoping it wasn't Willow's dying wish.

************

While he was struggling his way back to consciousness, Xander had the dream again. He felt warm and loved. There were arms around him, comforting arms, and a smell that he might have associated with the holidays if his mother had ever cooked a meal. He felt like he wanted to stay in those arms forever...until he saw Buffy and Anya staring at him. They looked angry, and he reluctantly freed himself from the happiness of the embrace...only to scream as he looked into Spike's leering face.

"No!" Xander yelled as came immediately awake, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Xander? Are you okay?" Dawn asked anxiously, and he forced himself to calm down. Orienting himself to their surroundings, he saw that he was chained between Dawn, looking at him with wide eyes, and Giles, unconscious as tradition dictated. Panic began anew as he realized who was missing.

"Where's Anya?" he asked.

"They took her a little while ago. She was awake, and okay. Then."

"Are you okay, Dawnie?"

"No. What's going to happen to us, Xander? What do these guys want?"

"They're the usual bad guys, Dawn. They want bad things. But...we're the good guys, right? So, we win in the end. Tara and Willow are out there working on it."

"They got hurt, didn't they? They weren't...oh God. Oh...Spike! He'll rescue us."

"It's okay, Xander. Spike will rescue us. I know he will."

"S-Spike?"

"Yes! Spike!" Dawn said angrily. "Xander, when are you going to get over this thing you have with Spike?"

"I don't have a thing with Spike! My thing is with Anya. All my things are with Anya."

"What are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You...you're always down on Spike...see, like now, you're making that choky gaggy sound, and you think you're being funny but you're not, Xander. You may not like it, but Spike's a Scooby now and you need to treat him like he's part of the group!"

"Now's not the time for this, Dawnie."

"Why not?"

"Because someone's coming."

************

OUTSIDE LOS ANGELES, CA

Faith was surprised when she was told she had a visitor. Angel still came by regularly, but mostly on the weekends and always right at the tail end of visiting hours. Tuesday in the middle of the night meant that someone else was calling. Someone who could pull some strings at the prison, too. 

Wistfully she wondered if it might be one of the gang from Sunnydale; Willow could have hacked into the computers to arrange a late night visitation. Faith pushed the thought away. She'd burned those bridges beyond recognition, and it would be a very long time since any of those sins were forgiven. And the person who had been hurt the most, the person whose forgiveness she wanted the most, was dead. Angel had told her, but she had already known, sensed it somehow. She squared her shoulders. Melancholy really didn't work on her.

As the guard led her into the visiting room and unshackled her, Faith shivered, frowning. What B would have called her 'spider sense' was tingling, but her visitor appeared human. Appearances could be deceiving, however, and Faith met the strange woman's gaze warily. Looking at the suit and sensible shoes, Faith smiled grimly. She should have been expecting this.

"Faith, I presume," the woman said softly.

"Watcher," Faith greeted her noncommittally.

"Yes, you're right of course. I am your new Watcher, Faith. My name is Miss Blackman, but you may call me Hortensia.

************

DREAMING PLANES, LOCATION UNKNOWN

Aldric wished more than anything that forms were material and solid on the Dreaming Planes. The urge to hit something in frustration was overwhelming. There was no real sense of time where he was; it could have been hours or days or weeks. All he was certain of was that his attempts to reach his sister in her dreams were without success. Part of the problem was that so far he had only sensed her sleeping twice, and she had yet to reach the depth of sleep where he could reach her dreams. He feared that the rest of his problem had to do with the dark magicks they were using to keep him in check. He had no idea how they were effecting him.

He wandered the Planes absently, more out of boredom than any real ambition to do anything. It had been so long since he had seen a living soul that he failed to recognize her at first. She had her back to him, staring off into the distance; he had the impression she was seeking some sort of contact, same as he was. She appeared to him as a slender young woman, but she glowed with a brilliance unmatched by anything he'd ever seen. She was a stranger to him, but he would have recognized her anywhere. He cleared his throat and she turned, looking at him with a trained mixture of curiosity and wariness. He smiled, hoping he looked reassuring. He was going to need her help, and he suspected she needed his. He held out his hand in greeting.

"Buffy Summers, I presume?"

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	4. Chapter 3 - Lydia Catches Up

Disclaimer: Joss & Co. owns all these people, demons, creatures, tax collectors, etc. I'm only playing with them.

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WATCHER'S COUNCIL, LONDON

Quentin Travers sat in his office ignoring the daily requisition and assignment forms he was supposed to be perusing. Instead he found himself staring once again at the photograph of Alan and Lydia. He had snapped it himself years ago, a rare enough occasion in itself to make the picture remarkable. But what drew him to it most was the carefree happiness he saw on Alan's face. The occasion had been Alan's official welcoming as a full Watcher, a graduation of sorts, and he had been relaxed and content throughout. Lydia was looking at him with genuine affection, so unlike the guarded looks she had taken to giving him towards the end. Quentin was not a fool. He knew that his nephew had changed in many ways, grown cold and calculating at the very least. But this smiling boy was the nephew Quentin chose to remember. 

A tentative knock at the door forced him from his reverie. Quentin sighed heavily.

"Come," he barked without looking up from the picture. After a moment where the unwanted visitor stood in front of his desk without speaking, he looked up in annoyance.

"Davis. What is it?"

"I've come for the reports, sir. And the signoff on Faith."

"Faith?" Quentin grunted absently. "What about Faith?" Davis sighed heavily.

"New Watcher assignment?" he prompted, speaking with exaggerated patience. "The papers for the American authorities securing her release to our custody. She and her new Watcher should be returning within a fortnight."

"Ah, yes," Quentin said, signing the documents Davis held out absently. In truth he remembered none of what Davis was talking about, but he wanted the bothersome man out of his office posthaste. Davis indicated a few more places needing signatures, then stood back, satisfied.

"Thank you, sir," he said primly, turning to leave.

"Davis?" Quentin's voice surprised the man, and he looked back.

"About Faith. If there's a problem..."

"We're prepared to deal with it, sir," Davis assured him. Quentin nodded vaguely, that brief moment of attention already fading. Davis watched him pick up the picture and saw himself out, smiling. *The Slayer's death, signed, sealed and ordered by Quentin Travers himself. The Dark Council will be most pleased with my service indeed.*

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OUTSIDE LOS ANGELES, CA

"Hortensia, huh? Can I call you Hor for short?"

"I would prefer it if you didn't, dear."

"Plan on watching me rot in prison? Cause that's pretty much all I'm doing here. It's very exciting."

"The Council has no intention of allowing the world to be unprotected, Faith. Your imprisonment will be dealt with shortly. It is important that you resume training."

"You guys want me back out slaying? Just like that?"

"We need a Slayer. Until another one is called, you're all we've got. So we mean to make use of what we've got," Hortensia said coolly, her face impassive but her eyes glittering with something Faith knew well. Contempt.

"I can't take the praise and affection. Please," Faith replied. Contempt was something she could dish out as well as take.

"I'll return another day, Faith. Be prepared." The Watcher stood and left without awaiting Faith's reply. The Slayer shivered.

"Don't sweat it, Hor," Faith snarled. "I will be." Faith was relieved to see that the guard bringing her back was Wayne Gibbons, one of the five guards Faith had rescued from an erstwhile inmate who had in fact been a Sukora Demon. Fearful of losing their jobs, the guards had kept quiet and Faith had spent some time in solitary for the violence, but their debt of gratitude had afforded her some extra measure of comfort and the occasional otherwise impossible favor. She touched his arm beseechingly. "Gib, I need to make a phone call." The guard nodded nervously.

"Sure thing, Faith. It's not long distance, is it?"

"Nah. Los Angeles."

************

DREAMING PLANES, LOCATION UNKNOWN

"You know me? You know where we are? This place is so strange, I'm totally confused. Do I know you?" Buffy's soul asked earnestly.

"No, we've never met, but I do know you. My name is Aldric. Aldric Stokes-Martin. I'm sure this is rather alarming, but I can assure you you're perfectly safe, Miss Summers."

"Okay, Aldric," Buffy said, trying the name on for size and almost giggling, mostly from hysteria. "Do you know where I am? Or who's in charge here? Cause I've been hanging around here long enough. If this is Heaven, it looked a lot nicer in the brochure."

"You're on the Dreaming Planes. Normally souls travel here while they're asleep, in dreams they very rarely remember."

"So I'm asleep?" Buffy asked in confusion. *Could have sworn I was dead.*

"I don't believe so. No."

"Oh. But you're asleep."

"Not exactly," Aldric vacillated. Buffy sighed.

"Why is it every helpful guy I meet graduated from Cryptic Academy?" she asked rhetorically, her eyes cast upward.

"Yes, ummm, the thing is, the Dreaming Planes should seem somewhat familiar to you. You've had prophetic dreams, as a Slayer, yes?" Buffy nodded, frowning in suspicion.

"You know I'm the Slayer? Okay, that's it. Who are you, buddy?"

"I'm a friend, I assure you. I know about you because I was once part of the Council of Watchers. It's a long story, but suffice to say I'm being held by a group of Watchers that have turned to evil." He watched her expression change from concern to cynical disgust. "I've been trying to communicate with someone, but without any success."

"Until now," Buffy said, and Aldric gave her a surprised smile, which after a moment she tentatively returned. "So tell me something, Aldric. Why am I here?" Aldric sighed heavily. This was going to be complicated.

"Afraid I can't be exactly sure. I do have a theory, though."

"Of course you do. You're a Giles-type, always making with the theories," Buffy said lightly, but her eyes were sad. She missed her Watcher terribly. And Dawn, and Willow, and Xander...Buffy shook herself from her gloomy thoughts. Aldric nodded and continued.

"Can you tell me the last thing you remember before being here?"

"I jumped from the tower. To save my sister. And..." Buffy frowned, trying to remember.

"Yes?" Aldric prompted.

"And I...well, I thought I died. There was something...pulling me. Pulling me out of my body. It wasn't right, though. It's not like I knew what was supposed to happen, but I knew that was wrong, you know?"

"Yes, I'm fairly certain I do," Aldric mused. "And I think I know what might have caused your...situation. The trouble is I haven't the faintest idea what's to be done about it."

"What are you trying to say? I'm stuck here forever?" Buffy asked quietly.

"Not if I have anything to say about it, Miss Summers. I give you my word."

************

SUNNYDALE, CA

Xander and Dawn tensed, straining to hear the whispered voices as they grew closer. Xander's eyes darted about, searching for something he could use to protect Dawn and Giles, but finding nothing. He resolved that he wouldn't let her be taken, no matter what, when he almost fainted from relief seeing who had come to them. Dawn gave a soft cry of joy.

"Spike! Tara! I knew you'd find us!" she said, holding up her manacled arms for Spike to work on. "They took Anya, and Giles is still out cold and...where's Willow?" She threw her arms around Spike as soon as he'd freed her, and Xander noticed how the vampire returned the embrace before setting her lightly down and moving on to free Xander. The dark-haired youth eyed the door nervously as the vampire worked his bonds free. It also hadn't escaped his notice that neither the vampire nor the witch had answered Dawn's question, and a cold hand wrapped around his heart

"Do you know where the Jan'esha took Anya, Dawnie? You, Xander?" Tara asked softly. Both shook their heads, and Spike and Tara exchanged meaningful looks. Spike finished freeing Giles from his chains and laid him down with surprising gentleness. "Okay, we need to do this ritual fast, before someone comes. Dawn, you help me and Spike. Xander, can you stand guard?"

"What about Anya? We have to find her!" Xander asked, wincing when he heard his own voice crack. He was beside himself with worry, about all of them. Even in the dim light he could see that Tara was hurt, perhaps badly, and he felt that icy hand begin to squeeze. Spike shoved an axe into his hands, meeting his gaze grimly.

"No one can come in here, mate. If we're interrupted, we're all dead, understand?" Spike said gruffly, then added softly. "This is the only way to save your girl." Xander nodded, his face growing impassive as it often did when his emotions were too strong. He turned his back on them all and faced the door, saying a silent prayer that Anya could hang on, that Willow and Giles would be all right, and strangely but not without precedent, his mind filled with thoughts of Buffy. Whether he was praying to her or for her he couldn't have said, but he knew what the gist of it was.

"Miss you Buffy. So much. God, I wish you were here," he whispered. He heard Spike and Tara begin chanting behind him, and a moan that he believed came from Giles. He glanced back, amazed to see the vampire, eyes closed, sitting crosslegged across from Tara and tracing glowing sigils in the air. He was relieved to also see Giles sitting up, albeit supported heavily by Dawn. Hearing sounds from down the hall, he whipped his head back around and gulped hard. There was no doubt who or what was coming this time.

"Guys," he warned the others quietly, "Brace yourselves, we're about to have company."

************

DESTINY, MAINE

Not much surprised Lydia anymore, but the underground facility Trisha led her through was not at all expected. Monitors showed that the entire town was under constant surveillance, and there were more than a few glowing crystals holding magickal wards lying about. Trisha stopped at a door and punched a complicated code into the alpha-numeric keypad, then traced a symbol on the door as she chanted a couple of words in what sounded to Lydia to be Middle Irish. The door opened of its own accord and stood back, waiting for Lydia to pass through ahead of her. As the former Watcher did she felt a rather unpleasant tingling sensation. She looked back sharply at Tricia, who was eyeing her with astonished amusement.

"Oh my, Lydia, you have been through something, haven't you?" she asked. 

"What was that?"

"A very nasty final ward, I'm afraid. That you felt it at all is an indication that you've been touched by something very dark. But at least we can be sure you have nothing but good intentions towards me and mine."

"How?"

"If not, you'd be dead," Tricia said blithely, seating herself on the sofa and gesturing for Lydia to do the same. Lydia took a moment to take in their surroundings, finding them sparse but surprisingly homey. The colors were muted with bright primary accents, mostly blue. Lydia smiled, knowing that was her friend's favorite color. Looking closer at her friend, she could see worry lines around her eyes, and fingernails that had been bitten to the quick. Tricia was obviously troubled by something; given her friend's naturally cheerful nature, Lydia had no doubt that if it was making her this anxious, she had a right to be.

"Trish, what is going on?" Lydia asked finally.

"I think that's fairly obvious. We're hiding."

"Yes, but why? And from what?"

"This might come as something of a shock, but it's the Council we're hiding from. Have been for years now. I thought they would just let him go...I was so naïve. Shameful, really. We weren't in America a month before they tried to capture us," she said ruefully.

"Capture you? I don't understand," Lydia said.

"I didn't either, at first. There was something about Koy I didn't know when I fell in love with him. It was the true reason he left London. It's the reason they won't let either of us go." Trish's eyes darted nervously about the room, and Lydia put a reassuring hand on top of her friend's.

"I can understand if you don't trust me, Trish. I can assure you I knew nothing about it...you're not the only one who's been naïve when it comes to Council matters." The last was said with such bitterness that Trish drew her friend into a quick hug.

"I do know that. You've never been anything less than a friend...it's why I sent you the postcard from here. You were the only one I felt I could trust. You'll probably be shocked, but I need you to know everything. It's the only way you can understand, and maybe even help."

"Anything," Lydia swore sincerely. "What is it about Koy that I don't know?" Tricia focused on a spot beyond Lydia's shoulder, her eyes pleading, and Lydia turned her head to see the man in question had entered the room. After a long moment of silent communication with his wife, Koy sighed in resignation. He looked Lydia in the eye and shrugged, his expression carefully neutral. 

"Simply put, I'm not human."

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	5. Chapter 4 - Lydia Revises History

Disclaimer: Joss & Co. owns all these people, demons, creatures, tax collectors, etc. I'm only playing with them.

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ANGEL INVESTIGATIONS, LOS ANGELES, CA

"Angel Investigations, we help the-" Wesley's greeting was interrupted by the familiar and not entirely welcome voice on the other line.

"Hey, Wes. Is the boss around?"

"Faith," Wesley acknowledged her primly. "I don't suppose there's any point in reminding you that I am, in fact, the boss...never mind, here's Angel."

"Faith?" Angel's surprised and concerned voice made Faith felt suddenly awkward. She had never phoned him before, and momentarily wondered if she was overreacting.

"Angel, hi," she managed to croak out, mentally kicking herself for sounding like a scared little girl.

"Everything okay?" he asked carefully.

"With me? Yeah. I'm cool. Five by...I'm fine. I'm just a little...I had a visitor."

"Who?"

"She said she's my new Watcher, that the Council was going to get me sprung and back to slaying. You know, because..." Faith stopped herself from saying the two words, but they both heard them in the minds and hearts anyway, as they did countless times a day. *Buffy's dead.* There was a long moment of silence before Angel responded.

"Oh. Well, that's...probably should have expected that," he said, his voice curt with barely repressed grief, and Faith closed her eyes. She knew better than anyone how hard this was for him, and here she was bringing him more pain. Another mark on her already blackened soul. Still she plunged forward, unaccountably certain she needed his help badly.

"Yeah. But that's not why I...Angel, I know I've been out of the slaying thing for a while, but this new Watcher chick, I got bad vibes from her. Like she's coming off real Gwendolyn Postal, if you get me." The reminder of the renegade Watcher made Angel's frown deepen.

"Okay," Angel said, his tone grave. "Tell me everything you know about her, Faith. I'll ask Wesley to look into it. If there's something wrong going on..." He left the sentence unfinished, but Faith knew what he was pledging to her. Her reply was simple but sincere.

"Thanks."

"Anytime," he said, and Faith blinked back sudden tears. She knew that he meant it. In a moment his tone was all business. "Tell me about this new Watcher of yours."

Faith took a deep breath and quickly gave him all the information she had about Hortensia Blackman. Then she sighed.

"My guard friend here's looking antsy, Angel. Time's up."

"Okay, I'll be in touch soon."

"Right," she answered, reluctant to hang up the phone. After a moment of silence he spoke again.

"Faith?"

"Yes?"

"You hang in there. Don't worry," he said, knowing she would respond with a lie. They would both be worrying.

"Nah, I never worry. You know me."

"Yes I do," Angel said, and the affection in his voice made Faith feel warm inside in a way she hadn't most of her life. She smiled at his ability to comfort her in spite of herself.

"Bye, Angel," Faith whispered as the line disconnected. Angel hung up the phone with a worried sigh.

"Trouble?" Wes asked softly. Angel turned to him, his darkening expression foretelling a brooding session coming on like the sky before a thunderstorm.

"Not sure, but I'm thinking yeah," Angel answered. "Someone might be after Faith."

"Who?"

"The Council of Watchers."

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SUNNYDALE, CA

As demons went, Jan'esha demons didn't look really intimidating in Xander's opinion. In this case, however, the old adage that looks could be deceiving couldn't have been more true. Their frail blue bodies looked as if a strong gust of wind might blow them over, but they had double the strength of the average vampire and tongues that lashed out like a scorpion's stinger, administering a toxin that effectively paralyzed their opponents, and with enough doses could certainly kill humans. Bad enough on their own, these demons that worshipped Oktep also had magickal enhancements and skills that could also prove deadly. There were only three coming towards them, but Xander knew all about three from his childhood Saturday mornings. Three was a magic number.

"What do we do?" Dawn asked in a whisper, and Xander had the distinct, rather unhappy impression that she was addressing the question to Spike, even though in the midst of the spell he was certainly unable to answer. And Xander needed an answer, as the demons were approaching quickly. He was relieved to see Giles regaining his feet, although he was leaning rather heavily on Dawn's thin shoulders.

"We must protect Spike and Tara at all costs. Once they've completed the spell and Oktep cannot be brought to this dimension, the Jan'esha will be more easily dealt with," Giles answered weakly.

"They'll be weakened?" Xander asked with cautious optimism.

"They'll lose some of their powers, yes," Giles answered, and Xander knew a hedge when he heard it. With no witch or vampire help, they were going to be overmatched by even the small number of Jan'esha approaching them. Xander racked his brain. According to what he could remember from Giles' research, their only weakness was their single-minded zealotry. They were often slow to react to unanticipated situations.

"Surprise," he mused. "They think we're still chained up. They won't be ready for us to attack." 

"Quite so, Xander," Giles answered, genuinely pleased with his deduction. They looked around and gathered some of the weapons Spike had brought with him. "We need to dispatch them quickly, before they can alert their brethren. They won't expect us to be free and armed. Dawn, you stay back with-"

"No way! You need me to help you!" the teenager protested, clutching an axe that looked too heavy for her to lift in her trembling hands. "You won't be able to take all three of them by yourselves. Besides, you're still all wobbly, Giles."

"She's right," Xander said through gritted teeth. "I don't like it either, but-we're out of time to discuss this cause here they come!"

The demons did indeed freeze in shock at the strange tableau that met their bulbous eyes when they came round the corner. Xander and Giles didn't wait for them to recover their senses but swung their axes immediately. Xander's blow beheaded the demon to the left; the one to the right suffered decapitation from Giles' strike. Unable to raise her axe high enough, Dawn thought fast and did a move Buffy had taught her long ago, grateful that in this case demon anatomy was not too different from the human variety. The demon fell to his knees, cradling his tender groin as Dawn moved in and brought the axe across at her knees. She wasn't strong enough to take his head off completely, but he was definitely dying. Dawn found herself unable to move away from the demon's twitching face. His eyes locked on her with murderous intent. Xander realized what was about to happen and pulled Dawn away only a moment before the demon would have struck her with his tongue. The two of them collapsed to the floor as the Jan'esha took one more gurgling breath and lay still, his poisonous tongue still laying outside his body.

"Gross," Dawn said, paling at the sight. Giles helped her to her feet and gave her an automatic hug. "I can't believe it. I totally slayed something!"

"Your sister would be so proud," Giles murmured, still holding the girl as if reassuring himself that she really was alive and unharmed.

"You rock, Dawnie. Giles, stay here with Dawn and watch Tara and Spike. I'm going after Anya," Xander said, grabbing his axe and running before Giles could tell him to stay.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Dawn asked.

"He's an impetuous, stupid fool who'll likely get us all killed," Giles snapped, then added lamely at her stricken expression, "but I'm sure he'll be fine. Look, I believe they've nearly finished."

Sure enough, a fine sparkling mist had settled around Spike and Tara, and as it faded they relaxed. Spike looked around him in a bit of a daze, while Tara nearly collapsed, only Giles' quick movement keeping her head from hitting the floor. She looked up and gave him a weak smile.

"We did it. Oktep won't be visiting this dimension anytime soon," she said. Giles nodded, looking at Spike.

"Are you alright?" Giles asked kindly. Spike seemed surprised and for a brief unguarded moment pleased at the Watcher's care, then his old cockiness asserted itself.

"Fine. Don't like messing with magic, is all. Sets my teeth on edge." The vampire stood and brushed himself off, then helped Giles help Tara to her feet. He looked around the room scowling. "Where's Harris?"

"He went to save Anya," Dawn said breathlessly. Spike sighed and shouldered an axe.

"Right then. Dawn, stay here with the witch; she's hurt and needs lookin' after," he said seriously to forestall the teenager's protests. "Watcher, you and I'll go get Harris and his tarty little bride-to-be."

"Let's go then," Giles said. It never occurred to any of them that they had just taken orders from the vampire, but Spike found himself suppressing his own astonishment. Maybe the poof and Willow had been right after all.

****************************************

DESTINY, MAINE

"You're a demon?" Lydia asked cautiously. "What sort?"

"Videclaru," Koy answered, and this time Lydia did almost fall over from shock. She eyed him closely, and now she saw it. The faint mottling on the hands and neck that she'd always mistaken for scars. Scales.

"I was told that there were no more Videclaru. The Council-"

"Wiped us out, well almost all of us, yes," Koy said bitterly, his eyes flashing momentarily red. "Do you know why?"

"The Videclaru were responsible for feeding off an entire village. It was a hideous massacre."

"Propaganda and horrid, unforgivable lies, Lyd," Tricia said hotly. "The Videclaru were peacefully co-existing with humanity for millennia. They kept to themselves and the idea that they would feed off humans is ludicrous. They can't injest meat, it makes them violently ill." A vaguely amused look passed between the married couple that told Lydia there was a story there. Tricia continued, "The Council needed an excuse to hunt down and kill innocent beings and make it appear legitimate. They wanted all the Videclaru dead."

"But they brought you to the Academy to train you as a Watcher, Koy," Lydia said slowly, struggling to process all of this new information. "If they knew you were Videclaru...?"

"They didn't know. Not surprising, really. I didn't know until I was fourteen," he said, running his fingers through his short spiky hair. "My real parents hid my sister and me with human parents when they went on the run from the Council's assassination squad. We both grew up not knowing. Then my parents were killed and I found a letter from my real mother explaining everything. When I began to show certain aptitudes, and the Council wanted me, I thought I might be able to find out what happened to my parents." 

"Your sister..." Lydia began, still stunned. Trish nodded.

"Tampa. She and her husband Bert are here with us now."

"I made them go into hiding when I left, to make sure she was safe. I did the best I could, but those bastards found her anyway. They almost..." Koy trailed off, overcome.

"Koy, you're saying the Council didn't know...what you are. What happened when they brought you to London?" Lydia saw Koy's expression turn wistful, then darken.

"They must have done some kind of tests...I don't know. I know that they found out pretty fast after I got there. I played dumb about it; it wasn't too hard, considering I had always thought I was human. When they realized what I was and thought I didn't know, they decided to keep me there for some experiments. Eventually they would have killed me, of course. Fortunately I found out what they were planning and escaped. With Trish."

"Koy told me everything. I knew he was a demon, but I loved him. I didn't care what he was, I had to be with him," Tricia said loyally.

"Did you discover what became of your parents?" Lydia asked.

"Hunted and slaughtered, like all the others. I have no reason to believe that Tampa and I aren't the last of our kind, thanks to the Council." Koy's expression remained carefully impassive, but his eyes flashed red again. It was a disconcerting and almost familiar sight, and Lydia repressed a shiver. 

"But why? Why would the Council invest so much energy in destroying an innocent race of demons?" Lydia pressed. She knew the Council was capable of atrocities, but there was always a reason.

"Self-preservation, apparently. They believed we would bring about the end of humankind," her husband said calmly, taking in Lydia's shaken expression.

"There was a prophecy, of course," Tricia said wearily. "Vaguely worded enough to allow for that interpretation along with a dozen others...but it was enough for them."

"I've never heard of any such prophecy, I swear," Lydia said fervently, looking at her friend and her husband beseechingly. Tricia put a comforting hand over hers.

"Apparently only the highest levels of the Council were privy to what it contained. My father..." Tricia trailed off, her eyes full of pain, and Lydia felt ill with sudden realization as to why Koy had been so frightened of her arrival. She didn't have to imagine the pain of that kind of betrayal. She knew it first-hand.

"Dear Lord. And mine."

****************************************

CONCILLIUM NOCENS, LOCATION UNKNOWN

"Report," Geoffrey said imperiously as his spy warped into view. These spells were taxing but necessary in order to insure that nothing went wrong.

"She's arrived. She's with them now, just as you predicted." Geoffrey nodded in satisfaction. Of course, it hadn't been his prediction exactly, but with it being confirmed correct he had no qualms with taking the credit.

"My dear daughter has finally reunited with her best school chum and her demon husband. Excellent," he sighed. Geoffrey leaned in and eyed the mole speculatively. "You know what must be done?" he said. It wasn't really a question.

"Yes...everything's been set into motion. They suspect nothing."

"Good. How soon?"

"I swear that by this time tomorrow, they'll all be dead."

****************************************

DREAMING PLANES, LOCATION UNKNOWN

"I'm no good at this," Buffy moaned. Aldric smiled at her indulgently. They were sitting across from each other in lotus position as he tried to teach the Slayer the finer points of invading dreams. They had both agreed that her friends needed to be warned about what the Dark Council had planned.

"It isn't easy. You're accustomed to being more...active. In order to penetrate another's dreams, you must concentrate on letting yourself go. You must allow yourself to lose this form, this identity. But you must be able to recapture your form once you've entered in order to achieve any influence."

"You know, when you describe it, it only sounds totally impossible," Buffy said with sarcastic cheer. "Even if I can master this, how will I even know when one of my friends is here?"

"It works best if you concentrate on your memories of them, what you love best about them...you should feel something almost like déjà vu when one of them enters the Dreaming Planes. I know this seems strange."

"Ummm, Aldric, no offense, but being the Slayer on a Hellmouth for five years really redefines your definition of strange."

"Yes, quite," he said, blushing a bit. Buffy couldn't help but smile. He was a stranger, but she found his presence very comforting. She was more upset then she was letting on about this current state of affairs. She wasn't really keen on the idea of spending eternity in this strange Daliesque landscape, and while Aldric had pledged to help her, so far he was really short on ideas other than this dream invasion thing. She closed her eyes, calling her friends to mind. She didn't regret what she had done for a second; she would gladly die a thousand deaths to save her sister and the world. She just hoped that things in Sunnydale were manageable without...

"I feel something!" she said excitedly. Aldric nodded encouragement.

"What do you feel?"

"It's like you said. I'm all déjà vu-y. Goosebumps."

"Can you sense a direction?" Buffy closed her eyes for a moment and then nodded.

"Yes, it's coming from...this way!" she said, taking off. The Slayer moved like the wind even in this dimension. Aldric was barely able to keep up with her, and managed only through a major concentration of will. He was exhausted when he finally spotted what they were running toward, and dismay shot through him. He reached out and grabbed Buffy's arm, bringing her to a halt.

"Buffy, wait, you need to know something first."

"What's the problem?" Buffy asked, knowing she was going to hate the answer. She had heard that regretful tone out of Giles countless times; apparently it was something they taught at Watcher school. Aldric pointed towards the woman Buffy had been approaching. The landscape surrounding her was glowing with a strange olive hue.

"You see that green shimmer?" he asked, and upon her nod continued, "I'm afraid that indicates your friend is not sleeping. She's in a coma." 

"Oh God. But she'll wake up, right?" Buffy asked immediately. Aldric frowned uncertainly.

"Perhaps, but normally the deeper the hue, the more likely the person is to...Buffy, I don't know what to say."

Buffy sank to her knees, crying out in despair.

"No. Not Willow."

****************************************

TBC - feedback is always appreciated!


	6. Chapter 5 - Spike Holds A Vigil

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, The WB, UPN, Mutant Enemy, Inc. and any one else with a legal binding claim to the shows and/or characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

****************************************

SUNNYDALE, CA

"It's going to be dawn soon."

Spike looked up into Xander's tired face in surprise. Since the rescue and the long wait at the hospital, not many words had been spoken by any of them that wasn't directly related to something medical. Anya had been treated for some minor lacerations and released; Giles had waved off the doctor's attempts to make him stay overnight for observation and she had gone with him to take Dawn home, promising to keep an eye on the stubborn Watcher and make sure he didn't lapse into a coma. Tara's arm had been set, and her other injuries attended to. She was also free to leave, but she wasn't going anywhere. She was curled up on one of the hard chairs, meditating as they awaited word about Willow. Xander had been doing something similar, that might have been praying if he thought he even did that anymore. He'd only just realized that Spike had never left.

Willow was in trouble, and Xander felt completely helpless. After hours in surgery, the doctors had frankly told them that they had no idea why she was even still alive. However, if they were successful at repairing most of the damage, they believed she would recover...if she woke up from the coma. Xander had shivered with déjà vu when he heard that. For a few moments it was as if someone had turned back the clock and they were back at Sunnydale High and Giles had been kidnapped and Kendra murdered...he'd felt a warm hand slip into his and looked into Anya's warm brown eyes and everything had settled back with a thud into the new reality. Still, the simple fact was that Willow might not make it. That knowledge was weighing heavily on all of them. Even Spike, Xander had realized looking at him now. The vampire regarded him hollowly.

"No word from those bloody docs, right?" he asked. Xander shook his head gravely. "Guess I'll be shoving off then. You'll let me know if...when she wakes up." Spike said, standing and stretching. Xander shifted from foot to foot awkwardly.

"Spike, I didn't...I never...I wanted to say thank you. You...you saved Anya's life tonight. And mine. Probably everyone else's too." As uncomfortable as it made Xander to say the words, it made Spike more ill at ease to hear the appreciation. He looked down and shrugged, looking like a recalcitrant teenager.

"Didn't do it for you. Just didn't like those chaps, is all," he said. Xander's lips pursed into a thin line as he turned away.

"Fine. Never mind." Xander stalked away and Spike sighed, calling out to stop him.

"Oh, bloody hell. You're welcome, alright? Let's not get all fluffy."

"Really not a problem," Xander said seriously as he came back to the vampire. The two regarded each other awkwardly, uncertain how to proceed.

"So we don't have to hug?" Spike asked, a small smile playing on his lips at Xander's double take.

"What? No! No, why would you..." Xander stammered in a high-pitched voice before getting himself under control. "I mean, I'm gonna go check on Willow. You, begone. Sunrise, remember?"

"Gone. You'll tell the witches I'm wishing...you know what I mean." The last was mumbled almost in embarassment, but Xander just nodded solemnly.

"Yeah. I think I do."

The vampire and the carpenter turned and headed in different directions, but both were struck by the realization that for the first time they were actually agreed on their course.

****************

DREAMING PLANES, LOCATION UNKNOWN

"What can we do?" Buffy demanded, her face set in determination. It was the face of a Slayer who had faced multiple apocalypses and emerged victorious. It was the most beautiful, terrifying sight Aldric had ever beheld, and he felt like he should fall to his knees in worship. After a moment, however, she slumped slightly, her face changing; now she just looked like a beautiful young woman who was worried about her friend.

"I'm not sure we can do anything."

"But...but Willow's a witch. She's very powerful. That's gotta count for something, right?"

"I really can't say," Aldric admitted. Buffy whirled on him angrily.

"Well you'd better say something. Give me something I can do to help her!" Anguished, Buffy looked back at Willow, seeming so serene inside her green bubble. "I can't just sit here and watch her die."

"Buffy, I..." Aldric was taken aback when the Slayer started to cry. Weeping women were never his strong suit. He found himself wishing he had one of his dragon carvings, the ones he had given to women under his protection. Logically he knew that Buffy needed no protection, but the impulse was still there.

"Is this what it was like for them? My friends? My sister? When I died? Did they feel this helpless?" Buffy sobbed. Aldric replied without thinking.

"I felt that way. And I didn't even know you." The two stared at each other, and it was hard to tell which was more surprised.

"What are you talking about?" Buffy demanded.

"This is a long story. You see, I was primarily responsible for the translations of texts, and I found this prophecy..."

Aldric continued on to tell Buffy the entire story. How he had brought the contraprophecy to Lydia when the Council had expressed no interest in it. How his sister had believed that the Dark Knight in the prophecy was William the Bloody, and how she had proceeded to Sunnydale to enlist his aid and ended up bonded to him. How Spike in turn had gone to each of her friends in turn and performed the ritual that would protect them from the foretold harm, even Angel. How Spike had somehow possessed Lydia for a brief period of time and saved her life from Quentin Travers' nephew Alan.

"And then, after everything, you still died...they made me watch them as they performed the ritual...I knew you were going to die and there was nothing I could do to help you."

"I...I don't know what to say," Buffy said. Without knowing why she reached out and took the young man's hand. Aldric was unable to respond at first, deep emotion working across his face as he mentally relived those past horrors.

"There's nothing to say," Aldric said finally. "I found you here, and I can help you now. Your friend is still alive, and that means you can reach her, talk to her...give her a reason to live, Buffy."

"What are you talking about?"

"Help her by letting her help you," Aldric said, his tone getting excited. "You said she was a witch. If she knew you were trapped here, what would she do?"

"Try to find a spell to free me," Buffy said. "And you think she'd pull out of a coma to do that?"

"You know her better than I," Aldric said. "What do you think?"

Buffy thought for a moment before she looked at him, her eyes glittering in determination.

"What do I do?" 

****************

DESTINY, MAINE

Lydia felt something close to despair. She had come to see her friends to see if they could possibly help her locate the Dark Council. Now she was certain that there was more than a coincidental connection between her plight and their own.

"My father...is part of a faction that has secretly split from the Council," she admitted. "They call themselves the Concillium Nocens, the Dark Council. They've turned their backs on everything that the Council has ever stood for, sold out all of humanity for their own greed. They're dedicated to evil...trying to corrupt the Slayer. Alan Travers was a part of it."

"Lord, Alan Travers. I haven't heard that name in years," Trish said. "You and he...but you're saying he was evil."

"Yes, I'm afraid so. He tried to kill me," Lydia admitted, feeling a blush of embarrassment creep across her face. She was ashamed she hadn't caught on to Alan's treachery sooner.

"Dear God, Lydia! What did you do?" Trish exclaimed, appalled.

"She killed him instead," her husband answered. Lydia turned to face him in shock.

"How did you know that?" she demanded. Koy said nothing, but Tricia grabbed hold of his hand, her eyes beseeching him. 

"Oh, please, Koy. She's going to know soon enough, and I refuse to keep another thing from her." Lydia was struck by the emphasis her friend had put on the word 'another', but filed it away to question later. Tricia continued eagerly, "Koy can see things...the future, sometimes the past...he's-"

"Clairvoyant," Lydia murmured speculatively. Koy nodded shortly.

"All Videclaru are...well, at least the males. Speaking of which, my sister's coming." Trish looked at her husband sharply, clearly shaken for a moment. He nodded reassuringly at her, and she relaxed a bit, but Lydia found her behavior inexplicable. A moment later a petite attractive brunette woman with sharp features entered the room, an even shorter man with a friendly moon face trailing behind. In an abrupt change of mood, Trish leaned conspiratorially over to Lydia like they were still school chums.

"I hate when he does that," she said in a stage whisper. "A girl can't get away with anything."

"Tampa, this is Trish's friend Lydia," Koy started the introductions. His sister eyed Lydia with cool suspicion, but shook the offered hand gingerly. "Lydia, my sister Tampa. And her husband, Bert Greenwood." The affable, sloppily dressed man was the opposite of his chilly, well-manicured wife. Bert shook Lydia's hand with such enthusiasm she thought it might come off.

"It's wonderful to meet a friend of Lydia's," he gushed. "We don't actually meet many people here, and yet, here you are, and it's just...so very wonderful!"

"Bert," Tampa snapped, and he looked at his wife in confusion while releasing Lydia's hand. Trish and Koy both looked amused, and Lydia guessed this was a long-standing pattern of behavior. Tampa glared at Lydia haughtily.

"Why have you come here? My brother said you were trouble," she snapped. Lydia raised an eyebrow at Koy, noticing that Tricia did as well.

"You had a vision that Lydia was coming? And you didn't tell me?" Trish inquired sharply. Koy looked at her for a few seconds, then locked eyes with Lydia.

"I'd like to speak to Lydia alone, please," Koy said quietly. Tricia stood, her eyes flashing angrily.

"I most certainly do mind, you're not going to interrogate-"

"It's quite alright, Trish. I think it's best that Koy and I get a few things straight between us," Lydia murmured, never breaking eye contact with her friend's husband. She could see in them something that made her shiver. Fear. Fear that she knew instinctively was of her, but for the life of her she couldn't sort out why.

"Leave them, Trish. You've got someone waiting on you, you know," Tampa said cryptically. Trish stood between Lydia and Koy for another long moment, then stalked off angrily, Tampa and Bert trailing behind. Bert glanced over his shoulder nervously several times as he was stepping out the door.

"Let's have it then, Koy. You're clairvoyant and you're trying to get rid of me...I don't for a moment believe those two things are not related. But I don't have the first idea why."

"I know," he said, frowning. "That's the part I don't understand at all. I thought I would be able to read it on you, to find out why you...but you don't know about any of it. I just don't know how that can be possible.

"What exactly did you see about me?" At Koy's silence, Lydia pleaded, "You don't understand, I don't understand...I think if we share what we know, we might be able to sort this out. I believe we have a mutual enemy, Koy. Pooling our knowledge together is our best chance."

"I saw you, standing here...like you are now. Then Trish...I saw her die. Everyone died but you..." Koy opened his mouth then hesitated, and Lydia felt like screaming. As upset as she was by that revelation, she could tell he was holding something important back. And now that she understood that her friend's life, that all of these people's lives were at stake, the desperation to know everything made her want to shake him.

"That's not all of it, is it? Please, Koy! Just tell me."

"I saw you leaving with...I can't. I can't let it happen, Lydia. You can't know...I'm sorry." Lydia covered her eyes as he left the room, lost in frustration and despair. And fighting the rage that was building slowly within.

****************

ANGEL INVESTIGATIONS, LOS ANGELES, CA

"Is there something I can do?" Fred asked nervously. Angel looked up at her and smiled. The physicist had come a long way since her rescue from Pylea. Helping her recover from the trauma of having been a slave for so long had helped him get through his own mourning of Buffy. At first he had been worried about the crush she clearly had had on him, but they had moved past that part of their relationship and were now just friends; in fact she had confessed to him her crush on Gunn. It was just nice to be around someone who wasn't constantly reminding him he used to be evil and was potentially evil again.

"I don't think so. Wesley's still got a few contacts in the Council, I'm sure they'll tell him-"

"Squat," Wesley finished sourly as the entered the room. "Angel, I'm worried. Something very wrong seems to be going on with the Council."

"What do you mean?"

"My old school chums seem to be rather reluctant to talk...apparently Alan Travers was killed under mysterious circumstances." At Fred and Angel's blank looks, he continued, "Alan was Quentin Travers' nephew. Quentin acts as the operational head for the Council, nothing happens without his consent."

"He's the one that was behind that stupid test that almost got Buffy killed," Angel growled. Wesley blinked guiltily.

"The Cruciamentem. Yes," he said vaguely, unable to look at Angel. Fred placed a soft hand on his arm.

"That's sad about his nephew," she said sympathetically.

"Oh. Yes," Wesley said, surprised a bit by that thought; it hadn't exactly occurred to him. He'd never really liked Alan Travers much, finding him pretty much an arrogant bastard, but he supposed it was unhappy for someone. Especially... "Apparently the death has hit Quentin rather hard. No one would come right out and say it directly, but there seems to be some feeling that he doesn't exactly have a clear fix on what's happening now."

"What about Faith?" Angel asked, a touch impatient.

"That's the curious thing," Wesley said. "Quentin signed off on orders for Faith to be brought back to London and authorized a new Watcher. It is this Hortensia Blackman, just as Faith said..."

"But?" Angel and Fred said simultaneously.

"But there's no record of the woman in the active Watcher databanks. I dug deeper and found mention of her in the Black Ops files. The woman's an assassin."

A shriek of pain from the other room brought them all running. Cordelia writhed in pain, half out of her chair. Angel ran to hold her, secretly despairing that she had to go through such horrendously painful episodes for him. After a moment the painful vision subsided and she looked up at him shakily.

"Angel...you've got to go now. Faith's in trouble," she croaked. Angel shared a meaningful look with Wesley and Fred.

"Take care of Cordy," he growled, turning at a run.

"Angel, we can help..." Fred trailed off. The vampire was gone.

****************

CONCILLIUM NOCENS, LOCATION UNKNOWN

"You wanted to see me?"

Geoffrey looked up and smiled at the scornful teen. Sharonda was so vitriolic, cruel, spiteful...he felt closer to her than he ever had to his own dutiful daughter.

"Indeed, child. How is your training progressing?"

"Fine, except I'm not the Slayer, am I?"

"That will be taken care of soon. I was referring to the other training that Mr. Blackman was undertaking with you, however." At that Sharonda gave him an enthusiastic, malevolent grin.

"Oh, yeah," she said, raising her hand and balancing a fireball on her fingertips, pretending to admire the blue flickering flames. "That's going rather well."

"Excellent," Geoffrey purred. "I am most pleased. I have a surprise for you, child. One I think you're going to like very much."

Sharonda raised her eyebrows questioningly, the fireball vanishing from her hand. When she learned what Geoffrey had planned, she clapped her hands delightedly.

"When do I leave?" she asked excitedly.

"Luther will send you there momentarily," he said, smiling back at her. "In a few short hours, you will have all your Slayer powers, my child." Sharonda's response made him swell with pride.

"Cool. As long as I get to kill." Turning her back to Geoffrey, she added silently, *and especially as long as I get to kill whoever killed Alan.*

**********

TBC...


	7. Chapter 6 - Lydia Gets a Small Surprise

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, The WB, UPN, Mutant Enemy, Inc. and any one else with a legal binding claim to the shows and/or characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

****************************************

DREAMING PLANES, LOCATION UNKNOWN

"Are you sure this will work?" Buffy asked for the third time. Aldric sighed and she grinned. "I know, I know, I just like it when you do that."

"Do what?"

"The long-suffering sigh. It's very Giles, you know."

"I'll take that as a complement. I admire Rupert Giles greatly, you know." 

"Did you know him? You know, in Watcher-land?"

"He was a quite a few years ahead of me in school, if that's what you mean. But yes, I knew him. Not well, but as I said, I admired him. Truly the Council could not have assigned a better man to guide you, Buffy. I knew of Merrick as well, of course, but only by reputation, so I cannot speak of his personal merits." 

"Oh. Remind me to pick your brain for all the embarrassing Giles moments once I finish talking to Willow."

"Alright," Aldric replied with a wicked grin. "Does that mean you're ready to proceed."

"Ready as I'll ever be," Buffy sighed. Closing her eyes, she began breathing in until her lungs felt like they were going to burst, trying not to think about how she really didn't have lungs and this was all illusion, trying to free her mind of all extraneous thoughts as Aldric had tried to teach her. She reached out her hand, touching the strange olive bubble that surrounded Willow...

...and suddenly she was standing in Tara's old dorm room. Willow was walking around the room, picking up objects almost absently and putting them back. The girls' cat, Miss Kitty Fantastico, was rubbing around her ankles. Willow turned around and started to see Buffy there. The two women stared at each other for some time before Willow nodded.

"It's true then. I'm dead."

"No."

"Okay, dying." Willow moved away towards her friend. "That's why you've come, right?" she asked, then wrapped her arms around her friend fiercely. "I know I should be sad, but I can't...Goddess, Buffy, I'm so happy to see you! I've missed you so much."

"Me too, Wills. Me too. But you're not dead. And you can't die. I really, really need you not to die." Buffy's voice cracked on the last word and Willow pulled away, frowning.

"I don't understand, Buffy."

"I need you to live. I...I need your help."

"But-"

"I'm not dead, Will. I mean, I am dead, in the sense of not being in my body. But I'm stuck in a place I'm not supposed to be."

"Oh. Buffy, are you in Hell?" Willow asked, her eyes brimming with tears. "Because I tried to find that out, you know, but the energies weren't clear and I could never get a good casting, and I just thought you...that you had to have gone to heaven, cause you were Buffy, you know? Oh, God, what have I done? You must hate me!"

"No, no, no. Will! I could never... look, just listen! I'm not in Hell, exactly...I mean, this place is okay, I guess, in a weirder than average way. The thing is, there's been some kind of karmic meltdown, not that that should surprise us. I'm not supposed to be here."

"Here?"

"Dreaming Planes. That's what it's called anyway. Place you go sometimes when you dream, like you are now. Giles will know. I think. Anyway, he can find out."

"Dreaming Planes. Right," Willow said, biting her lip, her eyes a bit dazed. Buffy grabbed her hand, meeting her eyes urgently.

"I need you to go back. I'm stuck here, and you and Giles are the only ones I think can unstick me. Please, Will."

"Oh," Will breathed, frowning. "But Buffy, I'm...I'm dying. You do know that, right?"

"You don't have to, though," Buffy said confidently. "I have it on good authority...you don't have to die, Will. It's not going to be easy, but you can will yourself to live." Buffy cracked a trembling grin. "So, will, Will." In spite of herself, Willow giggled.

"So what you're telling me is, even Death cowers before the resolve face?" she teased, marveling at her own ability to joke at a time like this, even if it was probably a reaction to the shock. Buffy laughed, hugging her friend again.

"Exactly," she said. "I know this is gonna be tough, Will. I know it would be easier to let go..." Willow pulled out of the embrace to meet her friend's eyes.

"I can do it. I won't let you down, Buffy," Willow said quietly, then shrugged. "It's not like I was exactly ready to go, anyway. And if I can bring you back...God, Buffy, I just..." Willow trailed off, too overcome with emotion to continue.

"I hope..." Buffy began, then stopped. What did she hope? That Giles could find a way to bring her back to earth, or that he could find a way to send her to heaven? Watching Willow cry encouraged tears, Buffy still wasn't sure about that answer.

****************

SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA

Spike was too exhausted to be restless, but not exhausted enough to sleep. Nowadays he had to be passed out drunk or completely worn out for any kind of sleep to really overtake him. It wasn't like fatigue would make him sick; still, it wouldn't do to let the reflexes go because he was groggy. He stretched out on his bed, too tired to pretend he wasn't tired. No, the real reason he was still awake was unavoidable and he had to accept it. He didn't want to see her.

The recurring nightmare had started right after Buffy's death. Everytime he closed his eyes he relived her death in glorious technicolor, and everytime he came closer to saving her. But he never, ever could. Allowing the exhaustion to overtake him at last, he settled back for another round of hopelessness.

Eternity had never seemed so long.

"And let the screaming begin," he muttered as his eyes fluttered closed.

****************

DESTINY, MAINE

Lydia began pacing restlessly as soon as Koy had left. The frustration was like a tangible thing, like another person, egging her on.

*Stupid to come here. Not getting anywhere, and Koy won't tell me what's going on. Should have just done this on my own. No one else I can trust. What was I thinking? Should just leave quietly, be on my way. There's nothing for me here.*

If Lydia was honest with herself, she knew exactly where those thoughts were coming from. That part of her that was inexorably changed by her bonding herself temporarily to a vampire. That new hardness had been invaluable to her at times, but the stubborn independence was a problem. 

*I can't do this on my own. I need help...*

Of course, she had another friend she could have turned to: Spike himself. Yet Lydia had found herself totally reluctant to do so. He had been inside her, knew her better than any other person ever would. Knew how she had felt about him for so long...Lydia shuddered. Spike was definitely a course of last resort.

It surprised her how hard it was to remember what it felt like to be bonded to him now. Still, on the rare occasion there was a tickle in her mind, and she wonder if the bond still existed. But it was her own mind playing tricks on her. There was no bond between the vampire and Lydia anymore...but there was something of the vampire left behind. She had a little extra strength, a bit more quickness, her temper came more quickly and she was capable of being ruthless in a way she had never been before. It was that inner steel that was calling to her to cut her losses and get out of Destiny now. At the very least, Koy's vision seemed to indicate her presence was putting these people in danger.

She stood, collecting herself, when something she hadn't noticed before caught her eye. It was a piece of paper wedged into the edge of the couch. She knew she was likely being watched, but she still reached down and worked the paper bit by bit out of its cranny. It was a drawing done in crayon of a woman, a child and a car. She frowned down at the crudely drawn picture, wondering if Koy had drawn one of his visions, and if so why he was using crayons, when she heard footsteps and voices approaching.

"No! Stop! Don't-"

Lydia gaped as two people ran into the room: Tampa and the person she immediately knew had drawn the picture she was holding. A five year-old child looked up at her solemnly, the spitting image of Koy Lorenzo except for his soft blue eyes. Tricia's eyes. Tampa looked at her guiltily for just a moment before her expression switched to venomous hatred.

"Matthew, no! You're not supposed to..." Tampa began, trying to forcibly pull the child from the room. He squirmed out of her grasp, never breaking eye contact with Lydia. Tampa turned her wrath on Lydia. "This is all your fault. You've cast a spell on him of something. My brother said-"

"You're name is Matthew?" Lydia said gently, as if Tampa wasn't even present. The boy nodded. "That's a fine name. I'm Lydia." Matthew held out his hand to her, and she held out the drawing. "Did you draw this?" The boy nodded, never losing his grave expression. "It's very nice. Can you tell me who it is?"

"Tampa? Tampa, where's...dear God," Tricia inhaled sharply upon coming upon the scene. Lydia's eyes were drawn from the boy to his mother, disappointment and betrayal in her eyes. "You weren't supposed to find out," Tricia said in a low voice, her eyes on Tampa but her comment directed towards Lydia.

"He ran from me...I couldn't stop him," Tampa stammered, paling under her sister-in-law's glare. Trish turned to Lydia, her expression a strange mixture of relief, guilt and something that made Lydia's blood run cold. Abject fear. Matthew glanced back at his mother but moved closer to Lydia. Her oldest friend was now unable to meet Lydia's accusing gaze. 

"Lydia, I'm so sorry," Tricia stammered. "I wanted to tell you, but Koy...we decided we had to keep Matthew a secret. From the Council most of all, and your ties...Koy was so frightened, I couldn't..."

"What are you both so afraid of?" Lydia asked her voice strained as her eyes wandered back to the silent boy. Matthew reached out his hand and touched Lydia's arm, then drew it in to point at himself. Gazing into his eyes, Lydia made an intuitive leap. The second she began to speak, she knew she was right.

"Matthew had a vision. And Koy thought I was going to take him away. It all makes sense now. Your husband thinks I'm here to kidnap your son!" 

"No!" Tricia protested, but there was dawning understanding in her eyes. "Koy would never have kept something like that from me. And Matthew couldn't have told him anything. Matthew has never spoken, not since he was born."

"But he draws pictures," Lydia said, brandishing the drawing in sad triumph. "This is a picture of the two of us, and my car. Matthew is trying to say I'm going to take him away."

Tricia's mouth dropped open, but her protestations died on her lips, killed by the manic flame in Tampa's eyes. And the revolver in her hand, pointed squarely at Lydia's chest.

"You won't be taking him anywhere. Don't think I won't do what I have to..." Tampa said, her hand only trembling slightly. Tricia's mouth was working in a soundless scream as Matthew watched with haunted eyes. 

*He's already seen this,* Lydia thought to herself. *He knows what's going to happen. Well, in this case one needn't be clairvoyant.* She raised an eyebrow as Matthew wrapped his arms around her waist and closed his eyes. Tricia sunk to the ground, her throat producing a low keening wail that made Lydia want to comfort her...except that she apparently wasn't going anywhere, at least not alive.

"Let the child go," Tampa said, and Lydia laughed, the sound shocking her friend into silence.

"I think you need to ask the child to let me go, don't you? Tell me something, Tampa. Did Koy tell you to kill me, or is this your idea?"

****************

OUTSIDE LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

"I need to see a prisoner," Angel said desperately, giving Faith's name to the guard at the security desk. The guard raised an eyebrow at the vampire's anxious demeanor, then punched a few buttons on his computer keyboard. Frowning, he checked the visitor's log and shook his head.

"Sorry, you'll have to wait. She's got visitors already, haven't been here too long. Could be a while." Angel looked down at the visitor log and saw BLACKMAN printed next to Faith's name in block letters. He fought back a fresh wave of panic.

"Where are they?" Angel demanded tightly. The guard looked into his face and paled, his hand subtly moving towards an alarm.

"Look, buddy, I can't-" 

Angel grabbed the man by the shirt and pulled him over the counter. The guard gave a short girlish scream.

"Where. Are. They?" Angel asked again, making it clear that his patience was waning fast.

"E-121," the guard answered hastily. Angel set the man back down gently and put his finger to his mouth in a shhhing gesture. The guard nodded vehemently as Angel reached over and punched him in the mouth. The vampire knew this wasn't going to buy him much time. He just hoped it would be enough.

"Hang on, Faith," he muttered like a mantra as he ran. "Hang on."

**********

OUTSIDE LOS ANGELES, FIVE MINUTES AGO

"Oh goody, you're back," Faith said in her least enthusiastic tone of voice. Hortensia Blackman sighed thinly, while the girl seated beside her grinned toothily. The smile made her look like a miniature shark, and Faith was pretty sure she was just as deadly. Hortensia nodded towards the shark-girl.

"Faith, this is Sharonda. Sharonda, Faith."

"Pleasure," Sharonda said blithely, her grin actually widening. Faith tried to smirk, for the first time in her life finding herself unable.

"Australian. Figures," she said, thinking almost disassociatively about Australia, and sharks, and vampires. "Listen, you've interrupted my beauty sleep, so can we make this quick?" Faith snapped, trying to cover up the sudden wave of fear that left her feeling strangely weak.

"Speed is in fact of the essence, Faith. We have much to do and not much time. You see, Sharonda here has recently completed her training as Slayer, and there's only one final test to make certain she's ready."

"She's a Slayer?" Faith asked, trying to swallow. Her mouth had gone dry, and her head was pounding. *Magic,* she thought dizzily. *Hor's using some kind of hex on me.* "I thought you said no new Slayer was called when B-"

"That's true," Hortensia said agreeably. "No new Slayer was called when Miss Summers died."

"Then...oh, I get it. You're doing some kind of mojo that's going to kill me, and you think Ms. Grins over here will be called...nice, cowardly way of going about it. She's gonna make quite the Slayer when you have to soften her enemies up for her." Despite feeling like the room was spinning, Faith finally managed to smirk when she saw the flash of anger in the girl's eyes. Her grin had completely disappeared.

"No," Sharonda said.

"She's trying to goad you into fighting her," Hortensia said calmly. "It won't do."

"But-"

"I'm afraid it's useless to appeal to Sharonda's sense of fair play, Faith. She hasn't one."

"I wasn't appealing to her sense of fair play. I was appealing to her sense of wanting to kick my ass." Faith gave the girl a scornful look. "Oh, but it doesn't look like she's got one of those, either. Sorry."

"Release her," Sharonda said tightly.

"I don't think-"

"Dammit, I said to release her!" Sharonda shouted. Faith almost immediately began to feel better. As her head cleared, she smiled saucily at Sharonda.

"You ever fight a Slayer before, wannabe?" Off Sharonda's look, she grinned wider. "Yeah, well guess what? I have. The best. And I survived, but I got my ass majorly kicked into a coma. I've been itching to return the favor to somebody for so long."

"So you'll kill me? A defenseless girl? So much for your fabled redemption." At Faith's frown, Sharonda pressed her advantage, gesturing towards Hortensia, who was watching the girl's circle each other impassively. "You really think they care which one of us wins, so long as they get the Slayer? So go on, Faith. Kill me. Take your best shot."

Faith's momentary hesitation was all the opening Sharonda needed. With a cry she hurled herself at Faith, grabbing hold of her head and pressing with her hands. Faith screamed as the smell of burning skin and hair filled her nostrils and impossible heat felt like it was being seared directly onto her brain. She reached out blindly and grabbed hold of the girl's arms. Ignoring her now-burning hands, she shoved with all her might and Sharonda went flying to the other side of the room. Faith cradled her hands to her chest and looked tearfully at the girl, groggily regaining her feet. Hortensia was watching them both closely, her face reflecting almost religious ecstasy.

"Alright, bitch," Faith growled, trying to gather herself for the attack she knew was coming. "You know, just between us girls, if you do manage to kill me, you're gonna be the butt-ugliest Slayer ever." Sharonda screamed in rage and Faith managed a grin despite her pain. "Truth hurts, don't it, hot stuff?" 

"You think you're pretty, Faith? You should see yourself now," Sharonda panted, raising her hands in front of herself. Two balls of magickal fire appeared on her palms. "You know, the banter has been fun and all, but we're kind of on a bit of a schedule. Date with destiny, you know how it is."

"What the hell are you?" Faith asked hoarsely, transfixed by the globes of blue fire.

"Just a girl...the better girl, it seems," Sharonda said, taking aim like a pitcher and throwing the flaming ball at Faith. Even as the Slayer ran she knew her opponent was lining her up for a killing blow with the other globe, and she knew she wouldn't be able to outrun that shot even with her speed. Faith closed her eyes as she ran, waiting for the killing blow.


	8. Chapter 7 - Spike Has a Visitor

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, The WB, UPN, Mutant Enemy, Inc. and any one else with a legal binding claim to the shows and/or characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

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OUTSIDE LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

Faith felt herself lifted in the air and hurtled backwards. She marveled at the lack of pain. Unlike when the first energy ball had grazed her, this time there was no burning or nausea, just the feeling of flight. She supposed this was what death was like: big scary build-up, and then the show was really nothing. Then she heard frustrated screams and gunshots. Her eyes flew open and she realized why her feet had not yet hit the ground.

"Angel?" The vampire adjusted his grip, moving soundlessly through the prison corridor.

"Don't talk. I'm getting you out of here." 

"What?" Faith gasped. She honestly hadn't believed that she'd heard him right. She knew they were in danger from the crazy Slayer and Watcher wannabes, but the thought of actually making a jailbreak hadn't even occurred to her. Angel actually picked up speed as he confirmed it. 

"Out of here. Now. You and me." 

Faith wanted to say more but the expression on Angel's face caused he to shut her mouth instead.

"Hang on!" was all he said before leaping out the window. She had the stomach lurching sensation of freefall before they landed with a jarring jolt. Faith now heard shots dinging off of the prison walls and buried her face in his shoulder, a second before his hand moved to protect her head there. She could feel him building up speed and instinctively braced herself. A moment later glass shattered all around her as the high-pitched sirens of alarms and the ping of sniper's bullets filled her ears. Angel grunted once, then again, but his pace never slowed. Faith had the sensation of flying again, then she heard the crunch of pine needles and leaves replace the sound of feet hitting pavement. Angel didn't stop running until he reached a clearing. As he gently set her down, Faith was shocked to see that his car was parked there.

"You planned this?" she said. Angel shrugged and winced, and she realized that at least one of those bullets had found a home.

"I knew you were in trouble. I knew I probably had to get you out to save you...and I know we have to get out of L.A."

"No arguments...but where can we go? These people want me dead, Angel. They're not gonna give up."

"We go to people we can trust," Angel said slowly, and Faith shook her head.

"No, Angel. No! Not Sunnydale! I can't..."

"We have to Faith. There's nowhere else...at least in Sunnydale we stand a chance!" Angel wrenched open the car door as Faith reached tentatively for his shoulder.

"Get in," Angel growled.

"Angel, you're hurt, let me-"

"There's no time, Faith. We've got to go now!"

Without further protest Faith fell into the car, immediately ducking down to the floor. Angel climbed into the driver's seat with a grimace and took off, tires squealing. He pulled something from his pocket and dropped it on the passenger seat.

"Dial the office. Speed dial 1. Tell Wesley what's happened, and where we're going. Have him call Giles...and then tell them to clear out. The cops will be looking for us. Tell them to meet us in Sunnydale."

"Great. A party...and I think I can guess who'll be bringing the favors." Faith felt a hand on the side of her face and looked up at the face of her vampire companion, noting that he hadn't taken his eyes off of the road. Nevertheless, the next words were spoken with so much sincerity that she still felt like his eyes were probing her soul

"I won't let the Watchers destroy you, Faith. I give you my word."

"Not that I don't believe you Angel, but I don't see how you can stop them. Especially now that they'll have the law on their side. Nothing to stop them killing an escaped con, couldn't be easier."

Angel opened his mouth to say something comforting, then closed it. Faith was right; they were officially out of the frying pan.

And the road block up ahead was the fire.

*********

DESTINY, MAINE

"You're right. Koy said I should kill you if I have to," Tampa confirmed. An unnervingly cold smile found its way onto Lydia's face as she stared down the demon holding the pistol directly facing her heart.

"What? He never...that's not true! Tampa, have you gone mad?" Tricia sputtered.

"She's not taking him anywhere, Tricia. I promise you. Alright, you, you hand Matthew back to his mother...very gently, if you please." 

"Put the gun down, Tampa. Please, you're frightening Matthew," Tricia protested again. The last was said uncertainly, as Matthew was smiling up at Lydia and seemed completely unaware of the gun pointed in his direction.

"Matthew is in danger, Tricia. Don't you get it?" Tricia asked, her voice rising incredulously.

"My friend would never hurt my son," Tricia said, never losing eye contact with Lydia. Lydia's gaze softened, and she smiled faintly at her friend, who nodded solemnly in reply.

"How do you know she's your friend? You haven't seen her in years, she shows up out of the blue. Why is it so hard for you to believe your own sister-in-law over a near stranger?"

"Look at Matthew."

Tricia's simple statement called both of their attention to the way Matthew was reaching for Lydia's hand. The former Watcher took it in her own and smiled down at the boy.

"I don't pretend to understand what is going on here, Trish. But I can say with utter certainty that I have no intention of harming your son in any way."

"She's lying," Tampa said weakly.

"No, she's not," Koy said, appearing from behind his sister and wife. Both of them gaped at him as he quickly took the gun from Tampa's unresisting hand. "I was wrong. I'm sorry." His eyes locked on Lydia's. "I've had another vision...I see things much clearer now."

*The rain is gone,* Lydia thought dizzily. His next words shocked her to her soul.

"Lydia. Please. I need you to promise me you'll protect my son." A strange hum filled the air with his words, and he grabbed hold of his wife, closing his eyes.

"Koy?" Tricia asked faintly. 

"I'm so sorry," her husband responded, hugging her to him. She never heard his words. They were drowned out by the explosion.

*********

SUNNYDALE, CA

"Any change?" Xander asked softly as he entered Willow's room with two steaming cups of hospital coffee, which had been determined to be vile but nontoxic. He handed one to Tara, who grasped it with her good hand with a smile of gratitude. The smile quickly faded as she looked back at her unconscious lover.

"Nothing. It's like she's not really here," Tara replied, blinking back fresh tears. She kept thinking she was all cried out, but thinking about Willow possibly...Tara stopped the thought before it could fully form. Life without Willow in it was simply inconceivable.

"She's gonna wake up, Tara. Any second now," Xander said, hoping he sounded more confident then he felt. 

"I...I know," Tara said, bringing the cup to her lips with shaking hands.

They sat in silence for a long moment, staring at the still form on the bed. It was almost possible to believe that she was just sleeping, but both of them knew that Willow never slept so still.

"Willow's so strong. The doctors don't know..." Xander began. It was a familiar conversation, but they both found it strangely comforting.

"They said they can't...they said it was up to her. And y-you know Will, if it's up to her..." Tara said with desperate optimism. Xander stood and put his hands on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"I know."

"How's Giles?" Tara asked, wanting to think about something else, if only for a moment.

"I just called. He sighed a lot about being fussed over, which I'm taking as a sign he's fine," Xander said, wandering back over to his chair and picking up his now cold coffee.

"What happened to Giles?" 

At first neither one of them reacted to the origin of the sleepy question.

"You know, the usual concuss...Will?" At first there was no response. Xander had begun to think they had imagined hearing the question when the redhead moaned as her eyes fluttered open.

"Oh my God, Willow!" Tara cried, gently showering Willow with kisses while grabbing hold of her girlfriend's hand. The redhead smiled back at her fuzzily.

"Hey baby. You okay?"

"Now. I am now. Oh, Will," Tara sobbed, overcome with relief.

"I'll get the doctor," Xander said, smiling down at both of the women and feeling another twinge of déjà vu as he ran from the room.

"Tara, I need to-" Willow struggled to sit up, grimacing when she pulled against some of her stitches. Tara easily pushed her back onto the pillows, stroking her forehead gently in a way that she knew from experience would calm the redhead. Willow closed her eyes and sighed.

"You don't need to do anything except rest and get better."

"No, I can't...there's no time. I can't go back to sleep...we have to help her...call Giles..." Willow protested faintly, her eyes fluttering back open determinedly.

"Help her who?" Tara asked curiously. Willow grabbed her hand with surprising strength.

"Buffy."

*********

DREAMING PLANES

"I feel someone else. I think It feels different..." Buffy said, startling Aldric. They were the first words she had spoken since Willow had vanished from the Dreaming Planes. He had been staring at her worried face, lost in his own concerns. One of the reasons he had never really been active Watcher material was his ingrained impulse to protect and shelter others, whether they needed it or not. Even knowing that Buffy was the Slayer couldn't overcome that urge.

"Can you pinpoint, like I showed you?" he asked, and she nodded, closing her eyes briefly.

"Yes...yes, I've got it!" 

"Okay, where..." Aldric began, trailing off as Buffy broke into another run. He sighed. "Never mind, I'll just follow you, like a faithful puppy." He had to run to keep up with her again, but then she stopped so suddenly that he almost plowed into her back. "Sorry," he murmured, but she did not even seem to realize he was there, staring as she was at a man kneeling as if in prayer. Unlike with Willow, the area surrounding him looked just like the field where Buffy and Aldric were standing.

"Why no bubble?"

"It's there, just not visible," Aldric said, squinting at the man, whose blonde head was strangely familiar. Aldric blinked in shock. "Dear Lord. Is that who I think it is?"

Buffy sighed. "It is if you think it's Spike."

"William the Bloody? You could sense...you've made friends with a vampire?" Aldric sputtered. Buffy colored briefly, but then cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Your sister merged minds with him, Mr. Pot."

"Point taken, but still...you are a Slayer."

"I know...but Spike is different. He can't kill, you know. And he's been very...helpful," Buffy said, a vision of Spike hugging Xander flashing through her mind and making her falter. "You told me yourself, he saved the lives of all my friends."

"He's still evil," Aldric grunted stubbornly.

"I need to bring up the sister thing again?" Buffy drawled, her eyes reflecting both annoyance and amusement. Aldric reddened and she laughed.

"Yes, well..."

"Well nothing. We have a message, and he's as good a messenger as anyone. Better, in fact, because he already knows the bit about Lydia and all that stuff that I didn't know and still kind of wish I didn't." At Aldric's puzzled frown, she added, "There was a lot of hugging. Hugging of Spike. Spike hugging. It's weird."

"Yes, I imagine so," Aldric answered noncommittally. They both watched the vampire in silence for a moment.

"So...is this gonna be the same as with Willow or what?" Buffy asked, taking a deep breath and beginning to put her game face on. This business was so different than slaying; harder in some ways.

"It shouldn't be appreciably different," Aldric conceded. "Although to the best of my knowledge no one has ever entered a vampire's dream before. They rarely show up on one's list of friends."

"Well, color me a trendsetter," Buffy said drolly, closing her eyes and adjusting her breathing. She cleared her mind and stepped forward...and found herself standing next to Spike, looking down at her own body. Buffy shivered. She had a flash of memory of having seen herself in just this way shortly before finding herself on the Dreaming Plains. It was creepy, especially because the eyes of the dead Buffy were open in an unseeing stare. She looked at Spike, prostrate before the body and felt instantly uncomfortable. She didn't want to see the vampire this way.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, her tone a bit sharper than she'd intended. He looked up at her in resignation.

"Come to tell me how I failed you, pet? Come to tell me you wish you'd staked me when you had the chance?" Spike asked. His flat hopeless tone made Buffy shiver.

"You didn't fail me, Spike. I'd say the opposite. I should be thanking you."

"What?" Spike blinked. This was a first; the Buffy of his dreams always brought him down, although occasionally there was kissing, or...other kinds of contact intermingled with the browbeating and eventual slaying.

"I know what you did. You saved them, Spike. You saved my friends and you never even told me. I just...I had no idea. Why would you do that?"

"Because I love you, pet. You know that I do. I have ever since..." 

Buffy frowned at Spike's aposiopetic moment, then glowered when he started laughing derisively. He looked at her and shook his head, then turned away, talking to himself.

"That's brilliant, Spike. What a lovely twist this is. You have the Slayer come to you all sweet and thankful, do the nasty and then she dies again, is that it? You unbelievable wanker." He was jarred out of his self-reproach by a sudden blow. His dream self landed on his back and looked up at the Slayer in shock. Hands on hips, she stared down at him angrily.

"I so don't have time for this. I need you to shut up and listen, Spike."

"Th-that felt real," he sputtered. "I never feel the blows-"

"That's because I'm real," Buffy snapped, cutting him off. "I'm really the real Buffy. And I need your help."

***********

Sorry this has taken so long! Real life is such a pain sometimes, but I promise you I'm still hard at work on this.


	9. Chapter 8 - Spike Feels Needed

Disclaimer: I think you know they're not mine by now! If not, check out an earlier chapter for the legalese.

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DREAMING PLANES

"You're dead, pet?" Spike said. He hadn't meant it to be a question - after all, he knew the answer already - but somehow it came out that way. Buffy tilted her head thoughtfully.

"Yes and no," she answered. "I've got no body. My body's definitely dead. But me, I seem to be somehow...stuck. Here. Where I'm not supposed to be. But I don't know where I'm supposed to be. Exactly."

"Bloody hell. Now I know I'm dreaming," Spike said, just to say something. "Didn't understand a thing you just said."

"Can we get back to the part where I say I need your help and then you actually ask me what I need you to do?" Buffy responded testily.

"You need me?" Spike repeated blankly, then a slow grin spread across his face. "You need me."

"I so don't have time for this."

"You need me, pet. Say it. You need me." He edged closer to her, needing to feel her even if it wasn't real, and noting how she didn't back away.

"I..."

"Say it," Spike said in a taunting tone. She glared at him, before finally sighing.

"I need your help, Spike."

Spike's face fell momentarily before he smirked in amusement.

"Wrong wording, pet."

Buffy threw up her hands, her temper flaring.

"You know what? Forget it. I'll just have to hope that Willow can-"

"Red?" Spike blinked. He shook his head, feeling bad at having to break the news to her. "She's...in bad shape, luv. I don't think the doctors were hoping for much."

"She was here, before. We spoke. She said she'd try." Buffy's face crumbled for a moment, and Spike wanted more than anything to hold her. Except he knew she wouldn't appreciate the gesture...and he didn't want her to kick his dream ass right now. "She's the only hope I've got."

"No, she's not." He risked reaching for her hand, and felt overwhelmingly gratified when she didn't pull away. "Just tell me what you need me to do, and I'll do it."

Buffy nodded, but her next words were the last he expected.

"Find Lydia Stokes-Martin."

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DESTINY, MAINE

It started like a low rumble, growing louder. Matthew started to cry, and Lydia picked him up, holding him tightly. Tricia reached for him, but her Koy held his wife back. Lydia shivered, fighting the cold comprehension of what was happening that was sweeping through her. She started backing away from them with a growing sense of dread.

"Stop her!" Tampa shouted, but Koy shook his head.

"Run, Lydia," he said desperately.

"No..." she moaned even as she turned and began to comply, running as fast as she could. She heard shouting and footsteps echoing behind her and prayed that the others were following close. Screams and the sounds of falling bricks made her slow, trying to turn her head to see what was happening. 

"Lydia! Get Matthew out of here! Run!" Koy cried. And she did. She ran full out, faster and harder than she would have believed possible, calling on that strange reserve of strength that had been hers since her bonding with Spike.

She was afraid that it was not going to be enough.

The walls were falling, and now there was the smell of burning. Fire spread along the wall beside her and Lydia shielded the boy with her arms, feeling the hair on them singed as she left through a wall of fire that had seemed to spring up of its own accord. The ground beneath her feet started to crumble away as she landed, and she knew that they weren't going to be able to get out of there alive. Desperately she flung herself forward, blinded from the smoke, hoping against hope that this was in fact the way out. Part of her mind registered that she no longer heard any sounds of life behind her, but she had no time to deal with what that meant. She stumbled and Matthew screamed, clinging to her as she fell to her knees. The sound of the petrified child strengthened her resolve. Staying low, she crawled blindly through the smoke and flames, with no sense of direction and with chunks of concrete and metal falling around them. If they didn't move faster they would die in here, she knew. 

//stand//

Her ears were ringing and her head was swimming badly, but the word seemed wrong somehow, like a thought that came from elsewhere. Still, she knew she had to move faster and she regained her feet, tightening her grip on the now-choking child. She took one tentative step forward and collided with the bottom of a ladder that had been obscured by the smoke. The lower rungs were chest high; she would have crawled right under it without seeing it if she hadn't stood at that moment, but she had no time to think about what that meant. She tore a long piece of fabric off of her shirt and wrapped it around her nose and mouth to help keep the smoke out, then did the same for the boy.

"We have to climb, Matthew," she rasped, her voice muffled by her impromptu mask. "Can you hang on to my back?" The boy nodded, and she swung him into position. "Hang on tight and don't let go!" she commanded, climbing up into smoke so thick that she thought she would faint for certain and kill them both. She could hear Matthew coughing violently, and his grip loosening just a bit. She let go with one hand and grabbed hold of his shirt, hauling him onto her hip and wrapping her arm around him. What seemed like hours later she reached the top and miraculously emerging out of a manhole mere yards from her car. Still shaking and coughing, Lydia looked up and down the deserted street frantically.

"Help me! Somebody! Anybody! There's been an accident! People are trapped! We've got to help..."

//gone//

"...them..." There it was again, that strange feeling in her head, only this time there was a hum, a strange vibration. Lydia looked around wildly as it began to gain focus and pulse...words...

//gone gone ow gone ow//

"What?" she said weakly as one hand went to her temple. The vibration grew louder and louder, and she felt like it was drilling her skull from the inside. She set the child down as her knees began to give way.

//gone ow gone ow go now go now go now//

Lydia found herself kneeling beside her car, looking into Matthew's sad eyes. Such beautiful eyes, so like his mother's...

"Trish," Lydia half-sobbed.

//go now go NOW GO NOW GO NOW GO NOW//

Lydia cried out in pain, clutching her temples. She fumbled with her keys in the lock, wrenching the door open as setting Matthew down. Both hands grabbed her head as her keys slipped from her trembling fingers. She was torn about what to do, and in the case of her skull she felt like she was being torn literally.

//NOW GO NOW GO//

"Stop it, or we aren't going anywhere," she said in a low voice, and the vibration and sound stopped at once. She settled the boy in the back seat, belted him in, then sat in the front seat in silence. "I...I'm so sorry, Matthew. I don't know what...what to say."

//...//

She turned and looked at him, and the boy met her stare solemnly.

//mommy gone now no no no no no no no//

A wave of sadness so enormous passed over her that Lydia burst into uncontrollable sobs. Matthew watched her, then shook his head. 

//no//

Lydia felt her emotional control return, and sighed at the boy.

"I don't know. Your parents, they could be...we've got to get help."

//no//

"Yes!"

Lydia groaned and slumped forward as a series of horribly violent images flowed into her mind. Some of them were as crude as a child's drawing, some were elaborately detailed. But all screamed danger. She saw her father's face and screamed. And underneath it all was that strange loud pulsing thought.

//GO NOW GO NOW GO NOW GONOWGOWNOGONOWGONOWGO//

"Oh God, stop! Stop it now!" Lydia said through teeth that were gritted to hold back another scream that wanted to escape. The voice and picture show stopped immediately. She pulled herself back upright, pressing her palms against her face. Her head felt like it had been cleaved into two throbbing pieces. She felt something sticky on her face and realized that her nose was bleeding. She shoved the keys blindly into the ignition and cranked the engine, unsure how she was going to be able to drive with this headache but knowing from what she had seen...from what Matthew had shown her...that the longer they stayed there, the greater the possibility that someone would realize they hadn't died in the explosion with the others. The explosion that had been an attempted murder of all of them.

Lydia didn't have to think too hard to figure out who might have ordered such a thing, but she couldn't think now. Thinking only made everything hurt worse.

"I just have to get away from here, then I can rest...and take a million paratylenol," she murmured as she shifted the car into gear and drove slowly out of Destiny, still blinking dazedly. Yet at the same time a plan was forming in the back of her mind, the only real possibility now. She'd run out of excuses and other options, and just picked up one big reason to go back there, to where this had all started for her less than a year ago. 

First she'd need to go back to New York, visit a little place she knew in the Village that could get her and the boy new identification papers and whatever else she needed. Then...she sighed, still wincing. The pain in her head was fading slowly, and she could actually see the road better than just a blur now. She picked up speed as she looked seriously at the small child staring at her in the rear view mirror. Tears had dampened his cheeks, but he still had made no sound.

"I'm so, so sorry. I don't know...I wasn't prepared for this...but I think...no, I know what to do. We're going to New York, Matthew. There's someone there, a friend of my brother's...I didn't want to go to him, but I don't think we've got another option. We've got a long way to go, and no time to take the car. And a commercial airline is out of the question," she said softly. The boy nodded, and Lydia bit back a hysterical giggle. "We're going to have to disappear for a bit, but we'll be all right, Matthew. So help me, we'll be all right." The boy nodded again, then closed his eyes and curled up to sleep. She thought perhaps she shouldn't let him; it wouldn't do if he was going into shock. But instead she concentrated on her own internal mantra, on the road, on anything but her best friend in the world lying dead behind her. Because of her.

*We'll be alright,* she promised herself again. *Soon as we get to California.*

***********

SUNNYDALE, CA

"Giles! How are you feeling?" Willow asked weakly when the Watcher entered. The older man's eyebrows went up in surprise. The swelling in the girl's face had gone down considerably from the last time he'd seen her, and although pale and bruised, she was awake and alert. He felt an almost palpable sense of relief, and immediately cautioned himself about expecting too much too soon. The girl had almost died last night, after all.

"That's really my question for you, Willow. You gave us all quite a scare, you know." The words were mild, but there was an intense and lingering sadness in the Watcher's eyes that told Willow he was flashing back to the still raw sense of loss that had accompanied Buffy's death. He looked her over intensely, seeming to relax only when she smiled back at him easily.

"Sorry," the witch murmured contritely. "I'm much better. Almost great, even."

"Ahem," Tara chimed in from her perch on the corner of Willow's bed. "You're not convincing anyone to sign your release papers, missy."

"Darn," Willow said, only half-kidding, something that both of her companions picked up on. Giles frowned in renewed worry. 

"Indeed, Willow, we're all quite concerned for your health." Implied in that sentence was the fact that it was more than her physical health they were concerned with. Giles had been more than a little alarmed by the story that Xander had related to them, but didn't quite know how the subject should be broached. He shouldn't have been surprised when Willow picked up on his subtle disquiet and did it for him.

"I'm not crazy, Giles. And I'm not dreaming. I saw Buffy, I talked to Buffy, I promised to help Buffy...you of all people have to believe me. The Dreaming Planes are real, right?"

"In theory," Giles began, and Willow bolted upright, eyes filling with easy tears.

"It's not a theory!" she wailed, swinging her feet off the bed and attempting to stand. She swayed alarmingly and fell back onto the bed. "You have to believe me, Giles, I-"

"Willow, what are you doing?" Tara cried out in alarm.

"Get back into that bed this instance, young lady," Giles said, his words overlapping those of the blonde witch.

"You're going to kill yourself," Tara added, assisting her to do just that. The redhead's extreme pallor was alarming to both her visitors, her skin white as parchment. Giles looked questioningly at Tara as she settled her lover back in. Willow closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, glaring at them both defiantly. Tara nodded at Giles and sighed softly. "She won't relax unless you finish, and she needs to rest."

"Fine. But only on the condition that you sit quietly and let me finish," he said sternly. Willow gave him a meek nod, and he continued. "As I was saying, in theory there is no actual realm of dreams, although certainly there have been many opinions to the contrary. However, the Council did confirm the existence of such a place some years ago. I seem to recall reading about a Council mage having determined a way to walk the Planes in a meditative state."

"So how did Buffy end up there?" Willow asked, wide-eyed. Giles polished his glasses, reluctant to meet her eyes. He didn't want to upset her, but what she thought she had seen was simply not possible according to the Council's research.

"Willow, I'm not certain...what happens in dreams can seem very real..."

"Giles, you just confirmed that the Dreaming Planes exist. How many people do you know that have actually ever dreamed about them? I mean, people that didn't already know they existed. And knowing what they are and what they're called?"

"None that I'm aware of, other than other Watchers. But you could have read that information in a Watcher's diary and simply forgotten all about it."

"And when have you known me to forget about something I've read?" Willow said with exaggerated patience, easing herself back onto her pillows and crossing her arms defiantly. Tara and Giles shared a long nonplussed look.

"She has a point," Tara said slowly.

"Yes...quite...nevertheless..."

"Nevertheless my ass!" Willow declared, blushing crimson the second she realized what she had said to Giles, but only slightly faltering as she continued. "Buffy's soul is on the Dreaming Planes, Giles. I swear! I swear...on everything! We've got to figure out a way to get her out of there."

Tara and Giles exchanged another look, both of their eyes less doubtful and more sure. In Giles' eyes Tara saw a glimmer of hope. Willow saw it too, and she relaxed slightly, sure now that the Watcher would be helping her.

"Yes...I'm sure there's something...wait, I have an idea!" Giles said urgently. "There's a member of the Council, Aldric Stokes-Martin, works in prophecies I believe. One of the better mages, really, and he's somewhat known for his knowledge of arcane magicks. I believe he might be the Council member who reached the Dreaming Planes, if not he'll surely know who has..."

"And know how to rescue a soul that's been trapped there?" Willow insisted.

"I-if such a thing is p-possible," Giles stammered.

"It has to be," Willow said fiercely. "Giles, there's a way. And we're going to find it." Exhausted, she settled back on to the pillows, already feeling sleep begin to claim her. Eyes closed, she didn't see Giles and Tara exchange looks of concern as she murmured joyfully, "We're gonna bring Buffy back."

***********

"Hello, Summers Residence," Dawn said cautiously into the phone. It had gotten to the point where she feared very ring of the telephone. Even though Giles had reassured her that Willow would be all right, Giles had gotten a funny, almost guilty look when she'd asked if she could see the witch that told her they were keeping something from her. Again. The person on the other end cleared his throat.

"Yes, is...is Rupert Giles there?"

"No..." Dawn drawled suspiciously. "May I ask who's asking?"

"Perhaps Miss Rosenberg is there? Or Mr. Harris? It's a matter of some-"

"Wesley? Is that you?"

"Yes, yes it is...good Lord, is this Dawn? You sound so grown up."

"Well, duh. I'm in high school now. Why are you calling? Is this about Faith? She's not out, is she? Because now is a really bad time for her to try to kill us all, I mean, Willow's already in the hospital and Anya and Giles are hurt and-"

"Calm down, Dawn. Now look, Faith is...is there someone else there you can put on the line?"

"Why? I can take a message," Dawn said defensively. Wesley's tone immediately became overly placating, which irked her anymore.

"Yes, I'm quite certain that you can, however this is quite urgent, and a message isn't-"

"Dawn? I heard the phone," Xander said, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"It's Wesley," she said, handing the phone over. "He won't tell me what's going on either."

"Huh?"

"It's fine. I'll be in my room, so you won't have to worry about me learning anything real. Bet you'll all be sorry when Faith comes and slits my throat!" Dawn stomped up the stairs after that parting shot, and Xander gripped the phone tightly, a wave of nausea threatening at her mention of the Slayer's name.

"Wesley? It's Xander. What's this about Faith?"

"Xander. Good, yes. I must explain, there's a woman named Blackman, Hortensia Blackman, who is representing herself as a Watcher from the Council. She's actually an assassin for hire. She tried to kill Faith."

"Tried," Xander repeated carefully.

"Yes, Angel did manage to stop her. He's protecting Faith. Faith called and started to explain but the line went dead, so I can't be certain, but I believe they're on their way to Sunnydale."

"Wait...you're saying that Angel broke Faith out of jail? Oh, man..."

"I'm certain Angel would not have taken such a drastic step unless it was absolutely necessary."

"Of course not. He's Restraint Guy," Xander said bitterly, then sighed. "Look, Wes, I don't mean to give you a hard time, honest. It's just...we're not exactly operating at peak performance here right now. We just had a major demon battle, and we almost lost..." Xander's voice cracked, and he took a moment to compose himself before finishing in a low voice. "We almost lost Willow."

"Cordelia, Fred and I are on our way to Sunnydale now. And we're bringing along a friend, someone I think might be able to help us sort all of this out."

"We can use the manpower," Xander sighed, running a tired hand through his already mussed hair. "It's been almost nonstop around here since Bu...ummm...let's just say, the Hellmouth without the Slayer, much more Hellmouthy."

"Perhaps it's serendipitous then that the Slayer is on her way there," Wesley said wryly. Xander laughed without humor.

"I was thinking a Slayer of the less psychotic kind."

"Faith has made a lot of progress, actually. She's not at all like you remember."

"So she's becoming a nun?" Xander returned caustically. Wesley coughed in discomfort.

"Well, yes, she's somewhat like you remember...but she has changed, Xander. And she's the only Slayer we've got at the moment." Dead silence met his statement, and Wesley cleared his throat. "Xander? Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I just...you're saying no one was...when..." he stammered. Amazingly Wesley understood the source of his dismay.

"When Buffy died," Wesley said gently, "No other Slayer was called. I thought that you knew."

Another long silence met his inquiry, but this time Wesley said nothing, allowing the younger man to process things. Finally he heard Xander sigh.

"I think I maybe did...but there's been so much going on. To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it too much."

"That's certainly understandable." 

"Wesley, not to sound cold, but how can you be sure the Council's not trying to kill Faith? Using an independent contractor, you know?"

"I...does it really matter, Xander? We simply cannot allow the girl to be killed in cold blood."

"No, no one else dies," Xander said with surprising intensity. Wesley nodded. He knew the feeling of helplessness that came with almost losing someone you cared about.

"Miss Rosenberg, is she going to be alright?"

"She's healing," Xander said roughly. "But it was dicey for a while, and she's not up to any big magic tricks. I so hope you can help with that. Last time I talked to Cordelia she said you were getting to be quite the Doug Henning."

"She did? Is that a complement or an insult?"

"It means you're good, Magic Man."

"Yes...well...I'm certainly not...I mean I wouldn't consider myself to be...I think I..."

Xander thought he could hear the man blushing, and despite the seriousness of the situation had to grin.

"Yup, you even sound like Will. Must be a magic thing. So any idea when we should be expecting Bonnie and Clyde?"

"I have no idea. As I said, the line went dead. I only hope they haven't run into more trouble."

***********

BETWEEN LOS ANGELES AND SUNNYDALE...

"We're definitely in trouble," Faith said almost conversationally as Angel wrenched the wheel to the side again as he slammed on the brakes, causing the car to squeal in protest as it spun 180 degrees. 

"We'll be fine," he said through clenched teeth. "I got us away from the last three roadblocks, didn't I? I can't believe you don't trust me."

"Not the issue, touchy-guy," Faith growled. "They've got us boxed in, they know the car, we can't exactly ditch it because it'd be pretty dusty once the sun hit you...far be it from me to be the voice of reason, but we're not gonna make it."

"We'll make it."

"Angel..."

"I said we'll make it! Dammit Faith! I really need you to trust me here. I know what I'm doing."

"Well, it's a good thing, because they've found us," Faith said, her voice sounding oddly flat. Angel glanced at her and saw all the color had drained from her face.

"What? I don't see..."

"Not the police," Faith insisted, gesturing up ahead. 

Angel swore when he saw the two women holding balls of blue fire, standing directly in the middle of the road ahead. He knew without needing to ask that they were the two from the prison, the ones that had wanted to kill Faith. He didn't even want to think of how they had gotten here ahead of them, or how they had found them at all. It stank of magick. 

"I hate magick," Angel said, not for the first time. Faith slumped in the seat, looking at him nervously. 

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"Get our asses out of here."

"Right," Angel said, wrenching the wheel again. The road they were on was sheer cliff-face on one side, sheer drop on the other. Angel knew he only had one real option.

"Angel, what are you - what the hell?"

"Hold on," he said, wrenching the wheel again. The tires squealed then spun for a moment, trying for purchase in the soft dirt. The Slayer braced herself as she they picked up speed, heading towards the drop.

"Oh, God, we're Thelma and Louise-ing here?" she cried.

"You said you trusted me." Angel deadpanned, flooring the gas pedal.

"Stop! Don't! Look, I changed my mind, I don't trust you any-AHHHH!" Faith screamed as the car dropped off the shoulder into oblivion.

***********

More apologies...it's coming along, I swear...don't hurt me...


	10. Chapter 9 - Lydia Books Passage

Disclaimer: I think you know they're not mine by now! If not, check out an earlier chapter for the legal disclaimer.

****************************************

BETWEEN LOS ANGELES AND SUNNYDALE...

Sharonda Martin and Hortensia Blackman watched in stunned silence as the car went off the road and vanished. After a moment Sharonda shrugged.

"Guess it won't be long now," the stocky Australian girl observed. Her companion's face was impassive but troubled as she eyed the tire marks speculatively.

"It would seem like they would not survive," Hortensia hedged.

"But you think they did?" the would-be Slayer asked sharply. Hortensia shrugged.

"I wouldn't have thought they would manage to escape from the prison. Or evade the roadblocks for this long. But Angelus has always been a bothersome creature. And we should have heard a crash by now."

The two followed the skid marks to the edge and looked down. There was no sign of the car at all, it had vanished completely as if it had never been there.

"Damn," Sharonda sighed. "Magick?"

"I'm...not certain," Hortensia said, frowning. "It's not a glamour or an illusion, nothing I can counter...but I have no better explanation. It doesn't matter." Sharonda's hands balled into fists as she turned on her trainer hotly.

"What do you mean? We need to kill that girl."

Hortensia's mouth curled into a thin contemptuous line.

"And we shall. Let them play their little hiding game. We'll simply meet them where we know they're heading."

"The Hellmouth?" Sharonda smiled a cold and feral grin. "Cool."

*********

"Dammit Angel, what are we gonna do? And where the hell are we?" Faith whispered. After the car had seemingly gone over the cliff, everything had gone dark. For a heart-stopping moment she'd thought that was it, but the harsh sound of her own rapid breathing had convinced her otherwise. They had been sitting in the dark for about five minutes, with Angel silencing all her other questions. Then she'd heard the voices, coming from above, and listened with a sinking heart. The only thing she could see was Angel's eyes, glowing golden slits that told her he had his vampire face on. For some reason that scared her, and Faith had had enough of being scared. She'd had enough, period.

"Hiding place Lorne told me about...he has some friends who occasionally need not to be found. Okay, they've gone."

"Swell. What now?" Faith crossed her arms across her chest sullenly, knowing he could see well enough to note the gesture.

"Try to call Wesley again?" Angel hadn't meant it to be a question, but it came out that way when he realized why she hadn't done that already.

"I told you, Angel. If you don't charge the phone, it stops working. And it doesn't start working again just cause you ask nice."

"You're right," Angel sighed. "I hate that thing."

"I'm thinking it's not very fond of you either," Faith said with a smirk, waving the battered phone. Angel started the engine and inched forward, exiting the hidden cave and driving back up onto the road. 

"We'll have to find a payphone." The vampire picked up speed once they were back on the road. "We've got to warn everyone our friends will probably get to Sunnydale before us."

"Why the hell are we still going to Sunnydale? They know that's where we're going."

"Yeah, they sure do," Angel conceded.

"So...shouldn't we go somewhere else?" his companion prompted. The vampire shrugged, wincing. His wounds were healing fast, but he was still not quite up to par.

"Normally I'd agree, but the truth is we can't run forever. And I don't want to. I want to get these guys, find out who sent them and take care of their bosses to. It's the only way you'll ever be safe from them. And the best place to do that is someplace we know and they don't. Where we have back up and they have-"

"The Hellmouth and tons of evil things," Faith said flatly. Angel spared her a look, then concentrated on the road once more, thanking God he'd finally ponied up for the super dark window tinting.

"You forget the main thing we've got that they don't."

"I give. What?" He gave her a sidelong glance and a slow grin.

"The Slayer."

*********

CONCILLIUM NOCENS, LOCATION UNKNOWN

"It's done. They're all dead, Koy, his wife, my wife, the kid, some folks from the town...and your daughter, of course."

Geoffrey grimaced at the traitor he had planted in the Lorenzo's hiding place in disgust. The man was slovenly, weak and pathetic, and in the end he hadn't really even served his purpose. Even this audience, the sole purpose of which was to kill Bert Greenwood, was a waste of a few perfectly good minutes of his day.

"Is it really?" he asked noncommittally. The man faltered, his eyes shifting nervously.

"Yes, they're all dead. No one could have survived-"

"But someone did," Geoffrey cut him off. "Two someones, in fact. One of whom was my daughter."

"Oh," he hesitated, then brightened. "Well, she was always kind of a bonus kill, right? That really shouldn't count against me." 

"It troubles me that she has not been captured. It troubles me that I cannot locate her now."

"And I really don't want you to be troubled, boss. But you'll get her," his sycophantic informer said confidently. "I mean, you've got all the Dark Council mojo going, right?"

"Yes. You're right, of course...my daughter is of little consequence." Geoffrey smiled thinly as the man sagged with relief. "I want you to know that you will not be killed for that failure."

"Right, great, so, no big deal."

"You will be killed because the boy is also alive and in her care. That failure could cost us everything!"

"What? Wait! No! I can help you!"

"I think not."

"The boy...he trusts me! I'm his Uncle Bert! Please, give me another chance. I promise you, they'll be dead. They'll both be dead today or my name's not Bertrand Melville Greenwood."

Geoffrey rolled his eyes at the man's melodramatics, then sighed. Perhaps he was right...and if not, his daughter might as well take care of this one for him. Really, killing such a wretched oaf was beneath him.

"Very well. One more chance. Do not fail again."

"I won't. I won't. I swear to...I won't."

*********

NEW YORK CITY

The small dragon statue sat untouched on the shop counter as Xerk'Ykl sized up his unusual visitors. The woman, no-nonsense and dangerous in her black leather pants and jacket, was quite striking, but what had really floored him was the whiff of power about her, some strangeness in her aura suggesting something dark had been there once and hadn't completely left. The boy, on the other hand...Xerk'Ykl knew a number of people who would pay handsomely for the boy. The woman would be no match for even one of his minions. And he could finally get out of this dirty business, find himself a nice comfortable dimension and take it easy. Xerk'Ykl's eyes glazed over with the thought, though his visitors would not have noticed. His yellow and white pupil-less eyes (one of his human girlfriends had said they looked like they were filled with scrambled eggs) were the only visible feature that marked him as non-human, so he kept dark sunglasses on at all times. Plus he thought they made him look cool.

The dragon changed everything. Xerk'Ykl made it a point to never be indebted to another; it was bad business, and eventually it led to killing. Unlike most of his kind, Xerk'Ykl didn't like to kill. Killing meant fewer customers, and fewer customers were bad for business. But sometimes no matter how hard you avoided something, life gave it to you anyway. There was one being in any of the Realms that Xerk'Ykl would feel compelled to either help or maybe to kill. The carving was his calling card, not to be denied. The demon sighed, bidding bittersweet farewell to his visions of fawning slave-girls and relaxing by the blood seas, knowing that he was going to choose the former choice. The woman, the boy...he knew that killing them would be his own death. Of course, he wasn't quite sure what keeping them alive was going to do to him either.

"What do you want?"

"You recognize it?" she asked coolly. Xerk'Ykl snorted.

"I recognize it. How is that idiot brother of yours? Still sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong?" the demon grumbled. The woman's eyebrow arched. 

"Still saving lives, you mean?"

"You say tomato, doll." Xerk'Ykl retorted with exaggerated cool, though in truth he was growing increasingly nervous. As tough as Aldric's kid sis seemed, it was the boy's steady stare that was unnerving him. Seeming to sense his discomfort she smiled down at the boy, ruffling his hair affectionately before returning her cool stare to their demon host.

"I need you to arrange a transport."

Xerk'Ykl almost sagged with relief. He had thought this was going to be something hard. He could arrange a dimensional trans in his sleep.

"You too heading out of this dimension, eh? Good idea. A kid like that, world of trouble here-"

"We don't intend to leave this realm," Lydia cut him off. "Just...we need to go to California. Quickly and quietly."

Xerk'Ykl nodded, though on some level he was deeply insulted. He hadn't conquered the Plentox of Qqql'rrr and stolen their secrets of the resonance of dimensional walls to become a travel agent. Domestic travel at that.

Plus he sensed that California wasn't far enough away for these two. He shrugged, keeping those thoughts to himself.

"A local job. Sure. Waste of my talents, but why not? Where to?"

"Sunnydale."

"Sunnydale? The Hellmouth? You're as mad as your brother!" Xerk'Ykl exclaimed, though he wasn't really surprised. Everyone who was anyone felt the need to hit the Hellmouth eventually.

"Quite possibly," Lydia agreed dryly, then continued, "I also need you to center us on a particular person. A man I need to find immediately. Can you do that?"

"If it's a man you want-" the demon started with a leer that was totally wasted on her behind the glasses.

"Can you do it?" she snapped.

"Sweetheart, I can get you so close to your man, you'll practically show up inside him." Off her look, he added hastily, "Or I could just listen and let you tell me what you want to do and do that."

Lydia smiled thinly, and Xerk'Ykl began to mentally formulate his own travel plans. This boy on the Hellmouth was gonna be something else. New York definitely wasn't far enough away to clear the fallout.

*********

DREAMING PLANES

"What?" Spike gaped at the Slayer in disbelief, temporarily suspecting that this was a dream after all.

"Lydia Stokes-Martin. She's a Watcher. I know you know her."

"I know her...I mean, I knew her...s'not like we're keepin' in touch, luv. And just what do you want me to do when I find her? Give her your regards from the Great Beyond?"

"Not exactly. Her brother is kinda here with me."

"What?" Spike asked suspiciously. "What's he on about then?"

"Please, he's a Watcher. Just like Giles. Only blonder and cuter...but in case you hadn't noticed I'm kinda dead and ghosty...it doesn't exactly lend itself to dating."

"You want to date this wanker?" Spike asked dangerously. Buffy shook her head, irritated.

"We are getting way off topic, and I don't know how much time we've got. Listen, you've got to get to Lydia and tell her that Aldric is still alive, that he's here and he's trying to-"

//WHACK//

The blow knocked Spike not only awake, but nearly out of bed, and he grabbed for his unknown assailant, struggling with his attacker and his own bedclothes blindly until he recognized the voice. 

"Whoa, hey! Take it easy, guy. Geez, you're hard to wake up!" Xander said, pulling away from Spike with a funny look. Spike stopped struggling and glared, still shaken by his abrupt shift in reality, not to mention his encounter with the Slayer.

"Harris. What the hell do you think you're doing?" Spike asked, and was taken aback when the dark-haired man colored a bit.

"Nothing! Well, no, not nothing. I've been trying for ten minutes to wake you from what was obviously a very involved dream. We got trouble coming. It's Angel. And also maybe Willow. She's awake, says she thinks she saw-"

"Buffy," Spike finished wearily. "She saw Buffy. And the Slayer needs our help."

*********

SUNNYDALE, CA

Giles hung up the bedside phone, his eyes troubled. Willow's even breathing told him she had finally fallen asleep, so he silently gestured for Tara to join him in the corridor.

"That was Anya," he said softly. "Xander received a call from Wesley...oh dear, you've never met Wesley, have you?"

"I've heard Willow talk about him. He was Buffy's Watcher? After you were...after you." Tara blushed a bit guiltily, and Giles gave her a gentle smile.

"Yes, quite. I'm afraid he wasn't much of a Watcher, but he is a good man, and he called with some rather...disturbing...news. I'm afraid we've got more than a bit of trouble on its way to us, origins unknown. But the Council must be involved on some level."

"The W-Watcher's Council? I thought they were the...kind of good guys." 

"Yes...I fear something there may be something rather untoward going on. My inquiries into the whereabouts of Aldric Stokes-Martin have also brought disturbing news. It seems the man is missing and wanted for murder of one of his fellows. As usual I didn't appear to get the memo," Giles added in a highly peeved tone.

"Oh, wow. He was the only one who could help us? With Buffy?"

"There are other mages, but I doubt they'd be very amenable. And none are as powerful as Stokes-Martin was."

"Will's gonna be disappointed."

"Yes...we must find a way to tell her. I must confess I'm very concerned about how Willow will handle this news, Tara. It's vital to her recovery that she not attempt any magicks right now. Her energies are still dangerously low."

"I know...I can see it in her aura," Tara agreed softly. "But you know how stubborn she can be."

"I do indeed. Especially when she believes that Buffy..." Giles trailed off, his eyes troubled.

"You don't think we can bring Buffy back," Tara realized. Giles shook his head.

"I think that if Willow is correct, if Buffy is trapped in some other dimension...we need to help her move on...but that doesn't necessarily mean...I mean, we don't have..."

"A body. Buffy's body, it's...there is no body."

"Yes," Giles confirmed, glad that she had said it. He still hated thinking about Buffy in those terms.

"Except...there's the Buffybot," Tara said absently, and he stared at her aghast. She colored and shook her head rapidly. "N-not that I'm suggesting...forget I said it...it's a machine, not a body...I-I didn't mean..."

"It's alright," Giles soothed her. "I know it looks like her...but Willow hasn't been able to get it to function at all since Glory..."

"Wrecked it," Tara finished softly.

"Glory wrecked many things," Giles snapped bitterly, then sighed. "I do apologize, Tara. I had thought I was through my more...maudlin period."

"Please don't be sorry. What Willow said, it was bound to bring up stuff."

Giles removed his glasses and pinched between his eyes, acting as if he had a headache, but Tara had seen the faint glimmer of the tears he was willing not to fall and knew the truth.

"It wasn't that," Giles said, his voice husky with emotion. "Well, not just that...it's Willow, that we almost..." Tara's eyes misted over, and she held up her hand.

"Don't. I can't..." she choked out, then turned her back to him as she composed herself. Giles sighed, feeling like an incredible heel for infecting her with his melancholy. Of course, intellectually he knew she had her own reasons for feeling this way, but it was in his nature to take the guilt on.

"Again, I do apologize," he said, feeling wholly inadequate. Tara's shoulders shook as she struggled with her own tears.

"I just...I don't know what I'd do, if something happened to-"

A panicked scream shattered the quiet of the hospital, and Tara staggered, her heart skipping a beat. She whirled back to face him in horror.

"Dear Lord," Giles cried, "was that...?

"Willow!" Tara finished, running back for her girlfriend's room.

***********

Feedback's always appreciated...more on the way...


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